Healing the Disconnect

One of the features of seasonal jobs is that life can switch rhythmically and drastically at the same time. What they don’t tell you is that the switch may take more time to process.Read More »

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This is my first quiet morning in a while.

In context, I suppose it’s my first quiet day in a while.

I wake without my alarm, which is a welcome relief. I lie in bed, wondering, with an occasional opening of my phone. Leaving my bedroom takes still more time, though in all the best ways.

Wandering into my living room, my mind feels empty. There are a few things I want to do, but few are essential. All I know is that my day has nothing assigned to it until the evening, and that will be time spent with friends.

Is this what rest is? A quietness of mind, body, and spirit, with a loose grip on anything that comes my way? An openness to receive from God, on God’s terms instead of mine?

Basketball season ended this week, and I’ll mourn it for a while. It was a fun year with a fantastic group of girls, and I’m sad that we can’t continue the sport we love together. Of course, it took a lot out of me – post season in particular is high stakes – but it doesn’t feel like a huge price in the moment, when I enjoy the time with the team so much. I thank God for the ability and opportunity.

My body had begun to outpace my soul as the season picked up speed. I describe post season energy as running as fast as I can up a mountain, only to have the mountain drop out from under me. Suddenly I’m falling, and I desperately attempt to brace myself for the landing. Sometimes I manage a dive roll; other times it feels like a belly flop. The residual pain can last for weeks.

All the same, on this first free Saturday, my body quickly reverts to what it needs: silence, slowness, and quality time.

Now, it’s about picking up the pieces. I check the pulse of my mental rhythm, acknowledging that the discipline to sit still before the Lord and listen will not come in one morning. I light candles that smell happy and take my time to make meals. My homebody instincts emerge from the shadows quickly but gently, without asking questions, to clean up the aftermath. I suppose they had waited in the wings the whole time, ready to restore me after the price I paid for so much excitement.