Tell Me Once Again

Simply and suddenly this weekend, I stopped.

It was so, so necessary.

Life does not seem to be traipsing along these days. It is barreling forward and it continues to be intense. We all feel this to some degree, I am sure. Many things fill time and space and schedules. I was loving this earlier in the week, but then I became exhausted by it. 

I came home to blissful silence, and realized just how many conversations I'd had, and how many people depended on me.  A thousand tasks accomplished. So many people need my time and attention. For a while I could not get away from the feeling that teaching is sometimes a very heavy burden.

Logically, rest makes total sense. But do we do rest? I sometimes hear about people in other countries and how they choose to work, and I think they've got something good figured out. Compared to some of them, Americans are a bunch of stressballs. And there is a cost.

Earlier in life, I vowed to omit myself from the attitudes that come to Americans who find their pride and only true self in work. I want work to be purposeful and meaningful, but I don't want it to be ME.

An ed prof at Bethel once told me I would never first be a teacher, and it has been a saving grace statement ever since. A true mantra in some of the most fatigued moments of my life. My identity is not in teaching and somehow I believed it before I ever made it to my own classroom.

Hearing something that counter cultural before entering the work force made it all very freeing when I finally got to it. It hit home because I have always, always, wanted teaching. And freeing myself from such a conditional life of teaching reminded me that this would be the thing to keep me steady in this field for a long time. I can see the cloud hanging over others when they tell me they feel guilty about their work. But we are not our jobs! Or at least we shouldn't be. A pile of assignments must be dealt with, but it is not in charge of me.

I say there is more right in front of us if we are willing to see it.

Jill Martin said that instead, first, I belong to God. Everything else, everything, is secondary. This has come to mind often since then, because whatever Miss Christians is to people can feel very exposed. Perception, miscommunication, style, scheduling, intentions, best laid plans gone awry....it can be so public, but I have to stay poised.

Recently when this feeling has been overwhelming, I have come back Jason Gray's 'Remind Me Who I Am'. The title is apt. So are the lyrics.

So. That is all the theory and intention of rest. But here's what I actually did about it.I shut off my mind.  No more winding thinking aobut the entire world and all of world history. I can go to the cosmic whole in a shockingly instant fashion with just about anything, and sometimes this annoys even me. Instead, I spent time with people who actually ask me how I am doing and always wait for my answer. I made myself spend time alone and breathe in and out and find my own perspective. I thought about what I was becoming good at and what I was still bad at and how it filled my days.


Just to get out of my own story, I watched a tv show about the medical field. Even though my friends in medicine tell me it's not realistic. Even though I still have to cover my eyes every time they bring out needles and begin to jam them into people having seizures. I can handle the blood. Just not the needles.

And I quit taking myself so seriously, which is always a good thing.


On an unrelated note, all weekend I have been thinking about writing. Anne Lamott gives writing advice in her book 'Bird By Bird' and the way she describes a good narrator is such truth. I spent time with two different friends this weekend who were so likable and interesting as narrators in their own lives, I could instantly connect to what Anne wrote in her book. They were washing the dishes too. Literally.


"I once asked Ethan Canin to tell me the most valuable thing about writing, and without hesitation he said, ' Nothing is as important as a likable narrator. Nothing holds a story together better.' I think he's right. If your narrator is someone whose take on things fascinates you, it isn't really going to matter if nothing much happens for a long time. I could watch John Clese or Anthony Hopkins do dishes for about an hour without needing much else to happen.

Having a great narrator is like having someone whose company you love, whose mind you love to pick, whose running commentary totally holds your attention, and makes you laugh out loud, and whose lines you always want to steal. When you have a friend like this, she can say, 'Hey, I've got to drive up to the dump in Petaluma - wanna come along?' and you honestly can't think of anything in the world you'd rather do."

....and later...

"Sometimes people turn out to be not all that funny or articulate, but they can still be great friends or narrators if they possess a certain clarity of vision - especially if they have survived or are in the process of surviving a great deal.

This is inherently interesting material, since this is the task before all of us: sometimes we have to have one hand on this rock here, one hand on that one, and each big toe seeking out firm if temporary footing, and while we're scaling that rock face, there's no time for bubbles, champagne, a witty aside.

You don't mind that people in this situation are not being charming. You are glad to see them doing something that you will need to do down the line, and with dignity. The challenge and the dignity make it interesting enough."




And finally, I discovered this picture last week. It was one of the most beautiful things I encountered. Someone asked if it was a little photo shopped but I didn't care either way. This is a picture from my dreams. I found I was glad to live in such a beautiful world and know a creative God who had such a good thing to say about it.