Slow Down

At last, an evening at home. Resting. Savoring. Being grateful and present. The last several weeks have been a rat race. We have been trying to get our duplex ready to rent out before the baby comes. Many renovations have filled what were supposed to be my restful spare hours. I have likewise decided to plant a garden even though I am due over the hottest part of the summer, and know that I will have to leave it for others to tend. It seemed the right choice because so many perennials were already planted, and so much weeding needed to be done anyway, I might as well make use of the soil. Each day, I have been hopeful of some sense of respite, some quiet for my soul. And each day has been filled with back-to-back tasks and appointments, to such a degree that I have found myself in a constant state of fight or flight. The word that keeps coming to mind is

scrambling.

I’m scrambling to race the clock. Yesterday I had a meltdown.

Hormones?

Stress?

Exhaustion?

All of the above I imagine.

I told my boss I couldn’t come in for work. I told my dear husband, Joshua, that I had been running on fumes for weeks, and I was done. He shared that he had no idea how hard it had been. The extent to which I was pushing myself. He shared how much he wanted me to just be the peaceful homemaker that I wanted to be. Stepping away from so many of my responsibilities sounded more and more inviting.

              And then I poured out my heart. Oh, to awaken each day and care for my home! To infuse it with love and grace. To nurture the well-being of my husband with kind words and kind gestures, rather than running out the door in a stressed state of chaos on my way to my evening job. To be focused on our child when she is here instead of a mounting pile of tasks.

Is there any way to be people focused rather than to-do list focused?

Is there any way to go on strike against this rat race?

I am determined that there is. Not that I’m going to be well-rested as I nurse a new-born, but surely there must be a way to slow down this spiral, this feeling of being controlled by my to-do list instead of controlling it. A way to orient my life around service to people instead of service to the clock. I realize that there has to be, because I cannot be a good mom when I am in a constant state of this level of stress. It is time to be done.

              Of course, I felt ashamed of my meltdown yesterday, and also sad that I had spent so much of this pregnancy in such a rush. And yet, I opened my Bible this morning desperate and hopeful for what I might find. Surely, God could redeem my frantic heart. Surely, God could meet my husband and daughters needs when I am too frantic and stressed to do my part. Please may it be so, my heart cried.

And these words calmed the ache in my chest.

              “Repent, therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out. That times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that He may send the Christ appointed for you. Jesus.” Acts 3:19-20.

              I know that God does not promise an easy life or a calm one. But He promises an inner calm to those who place their faith in Him. I have not mastered the way to work from morning until night and maintain this “time of refreshing,” but in the hope of not taking this verse in any way out of context, I prayed today that it would apply to my situation.

O Lord, how I long for times of refreshing! In the midst of this third trimester and this last season without a little one, in the short and intense season of labor, and in the season of nursing and nourishing a baby human. Oh Lord, sustain me spiritually, mentally, and emotionally with Your living water and these “times of refreshing,” so that I can do the task before me.

              And God in His mercy granted me this still and quiet evening. A candle lit in the window, birds chirping outside, squirrels galivanting across the red barn’s rooftop, the fading light of the sun behind a cloudy and dreary sky. The flowers well hydrated. Inside, the cats sleep. One is on a time out. My husband rests and watches a favorite show. I await the rising bread and Italian Wedding Soup in the crock pot. And I sigh as our gooseberry pounds my abdomen, eager to explore. I laugh because it’s so crazy how my whole stomach moves. My dress wriggles all over the place. First the left side extends. Then the right protrudes sharply. And I don’t let myself think of the fear. There will be time for fear later. Let me just enjoy this. Let me just rest. Let me just refresh.

Thank you, Lord, for promised refreshment in whatever context

You choose to allow it to be so.