I finally decided to drop down to one class next quarter, and
I can honestly say I’m sighing deeply inside with relief. I have no less of a desire to be going to
seminary, but I need the time to let it sink in, not to just “get it done”. And it will hopefully free up space to have
more date nights with Matt, read Scripture for
me (not just for class), and even sleep.
I know, though, that if I’m not careful, that open time will quickly
fill with mindlessness (where one minute I open my Facebook app, and the next
it’s half an hour later and I haven’t moved from the arm of the couch). I know I’ll have to be intentional about the
kind of rest and fulfillment I’m looking for.
I think today was an experiment in that, the first steps of
slowing down.
Matt went out of town this weekend. He is currently up at a cabin in Leavenworth,
having a reunion with his college roommates before one of them moves across the
country. It is a great time for him
to be with the people who have been so significant in his story, and for that I’m
grateful. But before he left, as I was
concocting a list of all the various things I could get done while he was gone,
he slowed me down and said, “Don’t make
a to-do list. Sleep in, have quiet time,
go for a walk. Do whatever you want to
do in that moment.” So… I tried that. This is how it went:
I got nine and a half hours of sleep last night—a record for
me in the last three months.
Then, after I got out of bed, I ground my coffee beans by
hand, boiled water in our electric kettle, and used the pour-over coffee pot to
brew my morning wake-up juice. My
typical self would look for a more efficient way of completing this process—it took
fifteen minutes of undivided attention—but as I listened to the roasted beans
pop and break through the grinder and smelled the bold, dark steam as the water
fell through them, I realized I enjoyed the pace of life that it set. I could simply appreciate the time it took to
make a simple cup of coffee.
I took this cup of coffee to the couch with my Bible, and I
re-read the book of Micah. “…and
you shall bow down no more to the work of your hands” (5:13). The last pages of my journal were filled today
after contemplating that in the presence of God.
Later in the afternoon, my wonderful friend Martha came over
and we took the bus to the University Village shopping center. We spent two hours wandering through the
stores, and in the end, the only thing we purchased was a cup of Menchie’s
frozen yogurt, drenched in broken Kit Kat pieces and caramel sauce. On the bus ride home we talked about making
plans for dinner (we do love our margaritas and seven-layer dip…), but as we got
off, she said she might need a night at home by herself. As hard as it is to say that to a friend, to
request the end of time together for the sake of solitude, I so appreciated her
wisdom in that moment. At the close of a
hard week, I am happy to see that I share life with people who know how to take
care of themselves. As adults, you would
think this was common sense. Yet, we
live in a FOMO culture (“fear of missing out,” that is) and I haven’t met many
twenty-six-year-olds that are better at resisting that temptation than
teenagers, including myself most of the time.
So, now I’m back in my quiet condo alone. I just finished a bowl of spaghetti after
dancing in the kitchen, singing Pharrell William’s song, “Happy,” over and over
in my head. I plan to end the night
reading the last few chapters of Shauna Niequist’s book, Bittersweet (a catalyst of sorts in my search for rest).
I know not every day is going to be like this. I know I'll see bags under my eyes, turn down shopping dates to write papers, and sprint through Starbucks on the way to important events. But today was a first drop in the bucket, a day of sun and peace and basking in the goodness of God... and for now, I'll take it.
Photo from luxpresso.com.
