Today, I woke up thinking about the title of the book,
Tyranny of the Urgent, by Charles E. Hummel.
My house is in somewhat of a chaotic mess.
It's been a busy week, and I find that the piles have grown faster than I have time or energy to deal with.
Not an unusual occurrence, but one that catches up with me in a big way and I become easily overwhelmed.
I gave great consideration to burning every list in my house.
Then I thought about collaging all the lists into my art journal.
My lists are needed, but today they seem utterly ridiculous.
Making the decision to ignore them completely,
I lit a candle, made coffee and proclaimed it a pajama day for as long as I can-or until the plumber comes to unclog my kitchen sink.
( I have been "camping" for three days now, doing dishes in a pot and tossing the water out. Or not doing dishes and letting them pile up with my lists.)
Today is a day to breathe.
Today is a day to focus on what is in front of me.
To take time to journal.
To not care how it comes out, (i.e. miss-spelled words) but to enjoy the process and to aimlessly doodle while I reflect on this verse I found in the Message version:
Matthew 11:28-30, message version
The unforced rhythms of grace.
My take on it is this:
Breathing vs. realizing I'm not breathing
being still, stopping, wasting time, focusing vs. movement
being kind to myself vs. being my own taskmaster
finishing one thing vs. multitasking
thinking about the great possibility I am working on my own strength and not on God's.
Wearing my own yoke that is too heavy. Too tight. Not taking me in the right direction.
My yoke demands more and more.
My yoke pushes until I forget to stop and say thank you.
Learning is a a continual life process, don't you think?
You will have to excuse me, but
some weeks, to be honest, are just bat-shit crazy.
Whether full of crazy good or just crazy, sometimes they are too much to be able to find our way.
My hope is that I learn to take my yoke off and put on the yoke of Christ.
One that will mold me in tenderness like a loving Father.
With gentle hands, kind words and eyes that look at me with love and compassion;
that teaches me that faith and trust are GOOD things.
I hope I learn through this life, that it will become easier to trust that these words are true.
Nothing like this was particularly modeled to me growing up, so find that I learn it on my own.
I practice it with my own children and gain
each time the opportunity arises.
Hands are open.
Breaths are being taken.
Thank you is being said.