I’m tired of resting.
Tired of following my daily recovery routine.
Tired of regularly hoisting my feet onto the sofa and doing nothing.
Whether it’s Sabbath or not, the same routine structures each day.
I squeeze discretionary and required activities between unyielding bookends:
getting off my feet when I begin to feel exhausted.
Is it too much to spend a morning walking with a friend?
Or sit through a long program that delights me
yet interrupts the main thing?
What is the main thing?
Is it getting well?
Can’t I stop with simply getting better and be done with it?
Nothing tests my patience like being relatively powerless over my recovering body. I can’t command or force it to be well. So I care for it day after day, night after night. Watching, working, resting, waiting. For what? I don’t always know.
If I could see where and when the payoff will arrive, I might be better at this Sabbath rest (or is it Sabbath work?) every day of the week. Instead, impatience and exhaustion creep up to haunt me.
Right now, after sitting at my computer writing this post (a sign of progress), it’s time to get up and make my afternoon veggie smoothie. Then I get to relax on the sofa, feet off the floor, breathe deeply, and do nothing strenuous or upsetting. No fretting about what I cannot change. Or distress because I’m doing nothing and it seems there’s so much more I need to do today.
After my veggie routine, when I’m lying on that sofa, I think I’ll read another delightful chapter or two in Alexander McCall Smith’s series, The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Series. Then I’ll be off to the kitchen to get my supper together.
Praying this finds you at peace with your Sabbath rest no matter when it arrives or how long it stays.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 September 2016
Book cover found at amazon.com