We’ve immediately been given “more time.”
And with it more pressure, to produce. To make it “productive.”
But, the problem is.
I don’t want to write. I don’t want to say anything.
Because I don’t have anything to say.
I’m just trying to catch my own breath. I’m just trying to undo the knots in my own stomach.
I’m trying to smooth out the knots in my back.
At night, I lay in bed, and try to smooth the knots out of my shoulders.
And my husband’s.
I try to smooth the knots out of my mind.
I was already homeschooling before this happened, it’s not a change, right?
But everything feels different.
Like someone died. Like many “somenone’s” died.
Because, they did.
It’s strange, grieving for strangers.
And yet, it’s one of the most human things I’ve ever done.
Because why not grieve for strangers?
I’m trying to push through. To smile at my kids. To act like some horrible thing did not happen, or happening. To prentend it’s not there.
But it is.
And I don’t talk to them about it. But I feel it in myself.
I feel this weight of death working on me, this shadow of death, and I’m trying to get away from it.
I wish I could just keep plowing on, business as usual.
But something is telling me not to plow. To just lay the plow down for a while.
And weep.
I need to weep, and I need to pray.
And I need to feel. And I need to cry.
And I know that seems so “unproductive.”
Like a waste.
I’ve felt guilty about it. Like I should be “doing” more.
But what if feeling, and grieving, and praying…actually is “productive.”
What if it’s a part of the process?
What if this is how we become who God wants to shape us into?
Maybe it’s not productive in a way that we can see.
But it’s human. And that’s something, too.
I don’t know how long it will take. For me to come out of this place.
Where my heart is grieving. And wrestling.
But I know that time spent with the Lord, is not a waste of time.
It’s never a waste of time. It’s actually the only time, where time stands still.
In His presence.
“When my heart is overwhelmed,
and I cannot hear Your voice,
I’ll hold on to what is true,
I’ll still believe…” –Brian Johnson
I cannot make anything right now. I cannot produce anything. Or write anything.
Not yet.
I can curl up. I can cry.
I can wait. I can whisper. I can pray.
But silence is when God speaks.
I say, “I want you to speak, God.” But if I never stop talking…
Is that really true?
If your friend or spouse constantly speaks, and never stops to catch their breath, or let you say anything–do you feel like they actually want you to speak?
What kind of message do I send to God when I say, “Speak to me,” but never pause to hear Him?
Maybe it’s time to pause.
Time to be quiet, for once.
To listen.
To Selah.
And wait.
Actually, wait on the Lord.
It’s not a waste.
To just be quiet.
To breathe.
To listen.
That He may speak.
Maybe the work, is to wait.
To be more quiet now.
And wait.
“Wait for the LORD;
be strong,
and let your heart take courage;
wait for the LORD!”
Psalm 27:14
Photo by Julia Caesar on Unsplash
Even if I wanted to be more productive, I’m unable right now. My schedule hasn’t changed much—if anything, I’ve had things added—but in general, I’m not able to focus well. I’m getting half the things done in twice the time, and wondering where each day has gone.
And yes, I have allowed myself to grieve. Finally. I felt like I wasn’t losing enough to have earned the right. I mean, my family is healthy and I still have some income. Other people have it so much worse. But I realized that grieving the small things like having to cancel a vacation with my BFF (who I only get to see every couple years at the most) and not being able to see my kids . . . I’m still allowed to be sad about those things without it taking away from the larger grief others may be going through.
The quiet moments you’ve spoken of are the ones that ground me when I start getting caught up in the whirlwind of news reports, political fighting, fear, and more. It IS hard to wait. But it’s so worth it.
Lynda, I always love hearing what you are thinking. I think what you are feeling is absolutely valid. I’ve heard friends say the same thing (including myself) regarding “I don’t know why I don’t feel like doing more right now.” It’s okay. I’m reminded that even Jesus did not exhibit or teach this sort of fierce “practicality” are instructed in as we live in this “hustle” type of culture. He only did public ministry for 3 years. He did not raise up his voice in the streets. He was (and is) gentle. He often withdrew and slipped away. Yet he was effective. And God did exactly what he wanted through him. His example gives me (and us) permission to rest, to withdraw and be with the Father, and just listen to his voice and simply obey what he asks of us. I find his gentleness so inviting.
I also love what you shared about grieving your trip and time with your friend. I think it’s important to recognize that grief and name it. I wish I could sit with you and hear your laugh. I look forward to that in the days to come! Hugs my friend!?