Rest

Rest and relaxation.  Taking a break from reality.  Slowing it down.  Getting away from it all.  Unplug.  Off the grid.  Decompress and de stress.  These are the words that come to mind when you mention the word “vacation,” at least here in America.  In many other places in the world, people (and businesses) go on holiday, with the only objective being to not work, but to enjoy something that isn’t work.  Not here, no.  We fill our days, our hours, our minutes, in fact our every waking moment, with schedules, to do lists, goals, and tasks, and we pride ourselves in checking off the boxes.  Vain and self assured, we foolishly think we can control our lives, so we fill our days to the brim, oftentimes with more than we can humanly achieve.  Throw one unexpected twist—a flat tire, a cold, a broken furnace, or a death of a loved one—and our house of cards collapses.  And so do we—so we seek rest in a vacation, many times applying the same rigid timelines we apply to our daily lives.  

I recently returned from a two-week vacation, a long-awaited (and much deserved, I told myself) break from all my responsibilities, a getaway from the hustle and bustle, a salve for my tired soul, and comfort for my grief. You see, we've had a heck of a rough season, afflicted in every way, and although we were not crushed, I was pretty close to it.  I'd been abandoned and betrayed by family, all four of our parents had died in the space of two years, we had taken on huge care-taking and legal responsibilities, and my faith was perilously teetering on the edge of complacency.  Adding insult to injury, I was out of shape and overweight. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run away, escape, forget, bury my anger and my sorrow and my grief, to rediscover my true self.   

Funny thing happened.  Even though the itinerary was chock full of activities, destinations, tours, and countless amenities (i.e. massages), I was not a slave to the schedule.  As I relaxed and unwound, I learned the beauty of ignoring deadlines, sleeping in, and just being me, and resting. I ran away and escaped, to be sure--right into the hands of a loving God. And discovered my resting place was always there, inside of me, where He had touched my heart and set me aside.  Amidst the joy of rekindled (and new) friendships, I realized how blessed I am, not DESPITE all the heartache, but BECAUSE of the heartache.  And I longed for home, to go back to the stress and the sleepless nights and the mundane tasks and the not-so-mundane tasks.  I was no longer afraid of lamenting, or sorrow, or frustration--they were all simply paths to a compassionate and merciful God, and a booster shot of His grace.  

Humbled, I tumbled right back into my crazy, hectic life, thankful for the respite, but relieved to be back home, and awed by how still and peaceful I felt deep down inside, even, no especially, in the midst of an emotional tirade, confusion, or the deep dark pit of depression.   That tiny, simple kernel of peace was still there, and all I have to do is reach inside, take a deep breath, say a prayer, and let it calm the maelstrom that is me.  

Rest.  In Him.  In His love.  In His peace.  In His word.  

And find rest.

Thank you Jill and James.