I know there will come a day that I will look back on this season and laugh. Or cry, maybe. But either way, I will likely doubt that it ever happened. I mean, who just ups and moves to Hawai’i for three months? So, future self, I write this to assure you that, yes, you did live in Hawai’i, you did only work two days a week, and you did have more free time than you’ve ever known before. (And, yes – because I know you’re wondering this– you did go a little stir crazy with all that free time.)
Lest, when you recount your time here to others, they think that your time was all sunshine, beaches, and margaritas, it was a tough season for you. For the first time in as long as you could remember, you had to learn to be still. You had to learn that it was okay not to fill every moment of every day. Most importantly (and consequently, most difficultly) you had to learn that your value was not derived in your job, your schedule, or your level of busyness – a myth that you had unknowingly swallowed hook, line, and sinker.
Others may hear of the afternoons that you leisurely walked to the local Coffee Bean to read, write, and drink coffee (who am I kidding, you really did it just to sit in the air conditioning!) and they might think that you had the life. Heck, future self, you probably look back and think that that was the life! Truth is, it was so hard. It was so hard to let yourself be. It was so hard to have days empty of to-do lists, and with the lack of lists, a seeming lack of purpose. *Even as I write that, I marvel at the ungratefulness.*
You had to learn to occupy your time with other things. You read a lot. And it was so good for you. You read more in those three months than you had read in the last three years. You had to learn that this season was sweet. You had to accept that the slower lifestyle was a gift. And you had to learn the art of using aloe vera.
You had planned and planned for this season. You had looked forward to the moment when you’d throw off the draining schedule of a full-time job. You anticipated the luxurious days spent with a book in hand. You were itching with excitement for the new season. And guess what? Once it got here, you were disappointed and overwhelmed and discontent. And you beat yourself up. How could someone be discontent in Hawai’i? Seriously. How could someone be bummed out in paradise? Come on! How could you be so ungrateful?
And then, it hit you. (as, I’m sure, it will continue to hit you for the rest of your life – darn, besetting sins) The problem with your previous situation and your current situation wasn’t your situation at all. It was you. You were (and, no doubt, still are) the problem.
You had grown accustomed to using busyness as an excuse, a reason, a purpose. The steady lullaby of chaos created the white noise that drowned out everything else. It was in the quiet, in the silence, in that slow season that God used to shake you awake. You had grown accustomed to taking the blows that stress dealt you; and you managed busy calendars with self-assurance and pride. You, rockstar, you. But, ironically, it wasn’t until you had nothing to do that you realized that you could do nothing. As long as you kept seeking contentment and fulfillment and security and identity in empty things, you were destined to be unhappy and discontent. Until you realize that there is nothing good in you, there is nothing good that you – in yourself – can do, you’ll be frustrated, running into walls of your own design.
So, when you look back on that season, you will definitely remember the weekend beach trips and the great adventures and the quiet days and the mountain of books you conquered with great gratitude; but, you will also remember that it was in this season that God taught you where your true value lies. Finger by clenched finger, He slowly plucked from your death grip the false sense of security you had built so carefully. He taught you that it is okay to learn to rest. He taught you to long for time with Him. He taught you to let go.
***
I know this slow season of quiet coffee drinking, book reading, and beach-laying with soon come to an end. (in one month, no less!) But I will forever be grateful for this difficult, beautiful, challenging and sweet, sweet season of rest, renewal, and redemption – for His glory and my eternal good.
No comments:
Post a Comment