Slow Sundays

I woke up this morning with my back in spasm. After Dan brought me a muscle relaxer and pain medication, took me fifteen minutes to pry myself out of bed. I finally managed to hobble down the stairs at 7:20, long after we're usually beginning our Sunday morning routine.

I helped with an event at church on Friday night and ended my three hours volunteering with hauling garment racks through the building, with a back that was already unhappy with how I'd treated it this week. By this morning, my body had said "Enough!" and I knew I wouldn't make it through a worship service, much less make it into the building with my granny hobble. So the girls and I stayed home.

When I have days where my pain is high, I struggle with my lack of productivity. Like any "good" American who was brought up right, I want to get things done.  My days feel frittered away when I rest. There are so many projects I could do! So many things in the house that need cleaned! It's so ingrained into my being that I get annoyed at getting tired at the end of the day. I just want to go, go, go. Yet, my body just won't let me go at the speed I want to go all day everyday.

I had noticed a few weeks ago there was a pattern to my fatigue, at least the really hard days anyway. It had happened enough times that I began digging into the reasons why -- I go so hard Sunday through Wednesday that come Thursday I. Can't. Move. I end up sitting at my dining room table most of the day, doing the bare minimum to get by until the kids go to bed. And as soon as they're asleep, you can find me snuggled up in my blanket with my cat, dogs and husband, finally resting my worn out body and watching Netflix.

 As I began realizing the pattern, God began speaking to my heart about rest. I am absolutely terrible at it, even when I don't feel well. Give me all the meds so I can get back to my breakneck pace as quick as possible, please. But God, ever so gently, as always, began to work in me.

If you look at Genesis 2:2, even God, our Almighty Father, Creator of Heaven and Earth, rested on the seventh day! Why then do we feel we have to constantly be productive? It's humbling to realize my standard for myself has been so ridiculously malaligned.

I've been trying over the past few weeks to go slower on Sundays. It's not easy, y'all, but my body and my soul have been soaking up the slower pace. Today, the girls and I baked fresh bread just for fun. Lorelai and I snuggled on the floor and she was delighted at my fake snoring when I pretended to sleep. Now we're sitting in a quiet house while the boys pick up some home project supplies for another day this week.

My body is mending. My soul feels as though the sun has broken through the clouds. And in the slow and quiet, I am able to look at my home and the week behind me and see all I have accomplished and rest.