A Mary Season

   May you have a strong foundation when the winds of change of change shift. Thanks for that, Bob Dylan. I've tried to work through the intro to this piece so many times, but nothing's coming together so here's the gist of it: Things are changing. They must. The last year has forced me to make extreme changes for my physical health. It has been profound and healing. (See the details HERE ). This year is proving its intent is to force me into profound changes for my emotional health. Relationships.  I'm always struggling with those, aren't I? Spiritual health. Healing in the depths of my being. And the first huge piece of that which everything is pointing to is REST.
   I thought I was resting. I was doing less. Working out only when I felt my body could handle the physical stress. I was listening to my body and sleeping when I needed sleep. And yet this past year has been filled with physical healing mixed with waves of deep sadness and massive anxiety. I kept only the good things in my life- serving wonderful people, involvement with wonderful groups, and really refining my commitments to good things.

Here's the catch: even good things can be bad when you weren't meant to carry them. 

I realized this as I hustled around my kitchen Sunday morning making breakfast for 80 people at 6am so those running the services later in the day could have a hot breakfast in the lobby before manning their own duties. As my own family began to wake up and need me, I began to implode. I had nothing left. I snapped and barked, having no time for them because there were 80 more important people to feed. Wait. Not more important than my family. But my actions said they were. When my husband dared enter the kitchen to make food for the kids, my last straw was pulled and I dissolved into a full blown panic attack, sobbing to him the details of an interpersonal struggle I'd had to deal with in the days before that had me utterly brokenhearted, how I couldn't fathom teaching the NEXT week because I had nothing to pour into those sweet little hearts and I haven't been able to sit in a Sunday service myself since June, and so much more. As I scrambled 12 dozen eggs, fried 15 pounds of hash brown potatoes, and baked 6 deep casseroles of French toast bake simultaneously, I dripped buckets of tears as profound sorrow ran down my cheeks. He was, as always, my rock, my compassionate sounding board, and my biggest cheerleader. He listened and let me come to the realization myself as anxiety screamed out my heartache: Enough. I'm not meant to save the world. Even wonderful people can be hurtful, can misunderstand, can be misguided, can use you. I. Need. Rest. 

   People say when you're feeling the most isolated is when it's time to dig in and get connected. I've tried. For the last five years I've tried. I'm an introvert by nature, so this is especially difficult, but I've been so desperate for connection I've learned to thrust myself out there. I've hosted the play dates. People often cancel. I've invited families over. People rarely respond once the formal invite is extended. I've thrown out the, 'Hey, we'll be at this park right near so many of you and your kids at this time today. Join us?' NEVER has anyone shown up. I've joined the groups for people in my supposed life stage and met wonderful people only to find that most of them have tapped out 'friend banks' so they're sweet when we're forced to be together by group, but otherwise don't give a rip about connection or relationship. As it came time a couple weeks ago to make a definitive decision about this new season of community groups, I felt massive anxiety rising over signing up for the same old ones. Why, my husband asked? I realized I have been pounding my head on the same brick walls begging for relationship, serving every chance possible to help and connect with others I wouldn't otherwise normally meet, only to come away empty almost every year. I've tried. I've WANTED to find my people. Desperately dug in, clinging to the good and trying to dismiss the rest only to come away with very little, nothing at all, or worse- negativity. I realized I'd often begun to serve in an effort to join those teams, find some comradery, and shout, 'Hey! I'm worth knowing!' It reminded me of the book, "Uninvited," by Lysa Terkeurst(that I've read three times because it so deeply resonated with me):

"So Don't," my husband said simply, "Your body and mind are telling you that this is not the place for you. Stop trying to make it 'Your place,' and 'Your people.' It's clear that they're not." He was so stinkin' right. See that, Honey? I said you were right.

   I. Need. Rest. Real rest. Not physically being unbusy or getting plenty of sleep, but the kind where I can look at my family and delight in them instead of being racked with the, 'What's next? Where's the next commitment taking me? I need to make sure I have it all planned out right,' swirling in my head. I want to live NOW. Right now. I don't want to be so busy doing and saving that I miss living this life God gave me with the people He entrusted to me. I don't need scraps of love from many. I am loved by Him. He saw the world needed ME, so He created ME. I matter, and I am incredible to HIM just the way I am. My heart, my journey, my healing are always relevant to the Creator who has given me this privilege of living for such a time as this, and it is wrong to squander it while I'm too busy begging others to love me. I have a tiny few, spread near and far, and I do such wrong when I take them for granted because I don't see them as enough. 

   So I am committed to learning how to rest. How to put Martha-mind aside and learn how Mary sat at His feet and soaked in the moment. I need to learn to choose the better part. I need to learn to only take on His yoke, not everyone being extended because I realistically can carry it and I do love helping people. 

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take MY yoke upon you. Let ME teach you, because I am gentle and humble at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For MY yoke is easy to bear, and my burden is light. -Matthew 11:28-30