And all my dear friends saw the title of this post and laughed. That’s okay. It was a kind laugh, of course. Because they know they’re laughing with me, and not at me. I hope.
I do too much running.
Well, I don’t actually run, though I’ve been known to walk. When it’s nice out. And not too hot. And I can find my sneakers and appropriate clothing. And I feel like it. Which is not too often.
What I really mean is that I hurry. I cram more and more into my days until the minutes scream for mercy, pop out of their 60-second boundaries and cry on the floor. Sometimes I join them.
I’m trying to change, really I am.
I’ve made a bit of progress recently. I finally made the decision to remove my daughter from an extra class she was taking that was making both of us want to cry on a fairly regular basis (whyyyyyy do we do things like that???) That was definitely a decision I should have made a long time ago. I switched the math programs that were frustrating us, too. The children took great joy in dumping the books in the trash. It wasn’t the first time books from that particular publisher wound up in Hefty garb, yet I bought it again (whyyyyyy do we do things like that???) Peace has begun to sneak in around the busy edges.
Everyone knows that sometimes the best thing we can do is to drop a few plates on purpose. In direct opposition to every bit of advice out there, though (because I’m contrarian like that) I also have instituted a very unusual practice for this mama: regular TV watching. I know, I know. The average person spends 28 hours per week watching television, and we could all change the world by not watching anymore. For me, that advice doesn’t hold, because just three weeks ago, I literally couldn’t remember the last time I watched a television program from beginning to end. During the day I’m flat too busy and in the evenings there are, if the house has been beaten into some form of submission, books to read and words to write and who has time to watch someone else do something which might be interesting or might not, anyway? TV has just not been my thing. But now I’ve discovered Downton Abbey. I want to live there. I may or may not covet the entire wardrobe of every actress involved. I may or may not wish Mr. Bates’ wife would be hit by a fast-moving carriage. Enough said. And no spoilers in the comments, please–we’re only on season two, episode five.
And you know what? The truth is that now that I’m sitting down and watching an hour or so of tv a few evenings a week, I actually think I’m getting more done. Not only that, I’m not a crazy cranky person while doing it.
Sometimes, the answer to a more productive life is counterintuitive. Sometimes, it’s countercultural. Sometimes, we need to discipline ourselves to just do nothing.
A rhythm of rest. That’s what I long for.
The girls and I will be traveling to Costa Rica in just two days! I so long for your prayers. Please pray that we will be a blessing to the people there; that the Lord will lay on our hearts just what to say as we meet precious ones He loves in orphanages and schools and on the streets.
Pray, too, that in the quiet of the evenings, He speaks to this mama’s heart. I am asking Him to show me His rhythm, to slow my heartbeat from its crazy pace so it will more closely match His own. All that matters is Him; that’s the message I want to tell with my days and words.
What might you need to do to find a restful rhythm for your own life?