A day. A breather. A respite.
I’ve been in Atlanta for a couple of weeks helping Melody and Chris and baby Sloane–a treat and privilege beyond what I could have imagined. I leave early in the morning for Austin to be with Mark and Jillian and their two boys for some Nana time.
Right now, I’m alone. For a few hours. Catching up on laundry. Unpacking so I can repack. Being quiet. No music. No TV. Only the melody of the washer and dryer. Our dryer tweets like there’s a bird caught in it. Musical.
I typically don’t like to be alone. Being in Atlanta was pure pleasure as I met my new granddaughter and had a front row seat to watch her parents begin to learn the ropes of caring for their new child. There was laughter and questions. Remembering what it was like when we had our first child. The fears, frustrations and sheer fun of having a little one of our own.
I didn’t stop. I was focused and intentional. Trying to be available, helpful, intuitive so they could experience their daughter without the distraction of petty concerns.
Back home, in this space of time, my brain has slowed. Hopefully not too much. Like my mind is taking a deep breath.
This little pause doesn’t feel lonely.
It feels like a gift
Which is a surprise.
I’m a high energy person. I have a hard time sitting still. If I sit long, my leg is bouncing. Which can be annoying for others. Particularly it it’s causing vibrations to happen. Sleeping is often hard because I can’t turn off my brain. Or hit reset. Or clear the screen.
This little bit of time feels special. Like God hit the pause button for me. Knowing I struggle doing it.
It’s a reminder that too busy is just too busy. That solitude isn’t a death sentence. (For extroverts it often feels that way.)
Exhaustion is a symptom of modern life. I hear the lie that slowing down could mean I’m no longer effective. If I don’t ramp it up, I’ll lose ground.
Would that be so bad?
Because I may not measure up to someone else? Because something inconsequential won’t get done? Because I’m afraid others will think I’m lazy?
I think too much about what I think other people think about me. Which makes as much sense as allowing preschoolers to advise me on major life choices.
Ineffective and foolish.
Jesus wants to lead me to a place of stillness and quiet. The calm of a gentle stream. The serenity of a lush, green meadow.
To remember I’m more than what I accomplish. I’m more than the sum total of my failures. I’m more than what others perceive me to be.
I’m a child of the One who made me His own. Whose plans are bigger and better than mine.
I will do what I do to the best of my ability.
I will also choose to breathe a little each day. To experience His calm. His quiet in my soul.
In spite of the deluge of the day.