03 April 08 - 04:11
I Need a Vacation from My Vacation
Last week, I had the uncommonly good sense to take a week of vacation following Easter. I had planned to spend a lot of time reading books and playing computer games, but with a whole week ahead of me to do what I wanted to do, I found myself diving into various projects that I usually don't have the time and energy to tackle. I moved three sewing projects from the planning stages to the sewing machine. I wrote a letter to the editor of Maclean's Magazine about their cover article, "The Jesus Problem." (More about that in a couple days.) I finally got around to finding a massage therapist, and spent an hour on the table. I took a day retreat, with spiritual direction and reflexology at a little retreat centre called Windsbreath (http://www.springsofliferetreats.com/). I spent the weekend with our families.
Then on Monday, the day before I was supposed to go back to work, I crashed. I spilled the milk under the fridge when I was trying to get my breakfast. I accidently cut a two inch slash into my latest sewing project in a place I definitely didn't want it to be. I made the colour printer make horrible noises when I was trying to get it to print birthday invitations to my daughter's twelfth birthday party. (At last report, the printer was still MIA.) And after at least six calls to area McDonald's, trying to book a birthday party for my six year old son, I discovered that there wasn't a McDonald's in the Halifax Regional Municipality that both had an indoor PlayPlace and hosted birthday parties.
By the time my husband got home from work, I had been sitting in front of the computer for at least an hour, compulsively playing Solitaire, because that was the only thing I'd done that day that I hadn't broken, spilled, or failed to execute. Though I was probably about $400 in the hole by the time he got home.
He's a trooper. He got dinner on the table, got the groceries, got the kids ready for bed, but I could tell he was worried about me. I was worried about me. I was supposed to go back to work the next day, and I wasn't even sure if there was going to be an office there for me when I got there. (There wasn't. Renovations are underway, and I don't even know where my computer is!)
I've done a fair bit of contemplation about why I crashed so hard, and I think that my retreat day opened me up to something I hadn't been letting myself think about up until then: I am still caught in the Protestant work ethic that states, basically, that God loves me better the harder I work. I was raised that way. So even in my leisure time, I have to push myself to get through the projects I want to have done. There's no such thing as down time. Vacation means working on projects for me instead of projects for the church. A change is as good as a rest.
Except that it wasn't. And my body let me know that on Monday.
I lay in bed on Monday night, and realized that I hadn't really talked to God that whole week. So I talked to God. Actually, I sort of screamed at God. I let 'er rip. I called God a bunch of names, the whole meal deal.
And the weirdest thing is that from the moment I said the first angry word, I felt the presence of God in a powerful way, and the more angry words I hurled, the more present God became for me. I cried out my anger, and God loved me all the more thoroughly. It was the weirdest feeling for a girl who'd been taught that God only wants nice little girls who behave themselves and work hard.
I mentioned it to my husband later, and he nodded sagely and said, "God is much happier when you're angry than God is to be ignored." I guess it must be true.
I'm a little more balanced today. But I still feel like I could use a vacation from my vacation.
Blessings, Heather.
one comment
Heather: Congratulations on finally crashing. You have been building toward this. I have been watching the activity of my church family longingly from the sidelines and I have noticed that you have not been taking time for yourself to rest, to renew. I hope you are learning from this. We want a minister who is taking care of herself – because, we will keep demanding and you are the one who has to apply the brakes.
On a personal note: Thank you so very much for giving me such a wondeful blessing on Maundy Thursday. You saw just how much I was missing being at church and you helped take care of that need. A true blessing for me – but extreme extra work for you. Thank you. Brenda
Brenda - 06 04 08 - 17:33
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