Are You Busy This Afternoon?

I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been reading about a crazy-busy housewife-mother-writer-realtor. Her plate was full. She confessed to wishing she could get sick enough for a short hospital stay -- nothing too serious, just enough for a couple of days where she could be doted on, where she could choose not to answer the phone, where she could watch hours of her favorite shows or read in quiet. And here I thought I was the only one twisted enough to wish such a thing. Who would choose meal after meal of hospital food just to get a rest? Hey, it always tastes better when someone else cooks, right?

The truth is, I had such an experience. I hate to say it, but it was almost wonderful. I wasn't so sick I was languishing near death, but my condition was volatile enough the doctors were not willing to send me home. So, I rested without so much as the sound of my own voice to keep me company. I read and listened to music day after day. I walked through hospital hallways. I prayed and wrote for hours on end. I watched the birds outside my window (I did, I really did.) Almost a solid week of doing some of the things I love most. When I first got sick, my skin was crawling, my heart was racing, I couldn't sleep, I was losing muscle mass at a ridiculous rate -- I not only felt like something was wrong, anyone could see something was wrong. I looked sick. And people gave me a pass. And I gave me a pass. I was sick. I needed to rest. Something within me told me it was okay to do that now. And that, my friends, is just sad.

If you are anything like me, you've got twenty-four hours in your day but that will never stop you from planning at least thirty-hours worth of things to do. There are days when, I look at the clock, tell myself, "I'm making great time. If I get this finished, I can actually read a bit and get a full night's sleep." But then -- without even considering the consequences -- I "notice" a dozen other things that must be finished before I get any sleep at all. I'm not kidding! I know I do it to myself. I am compulsively busy. When I'm longing for serenity, chances are, it's because I have created the commotion. When I'm longing for a shorter list, chances are, it's because I have added more to the one I've got. There is no one else responsible for my busyness but me. Sitting around a hospital proved that. If I have to be locked away -- away from things to do --  it can only be that I am really saving myself from me.

I'm not the first, however, and I am certainly not alone. This is such a problem, this busyness, the Bible records the account of another compulsive doer like me. (Read her story here.) She not only missed out on really great company -- the best -- but she blamed her sister for not being just like her! By sucking her sister into her vortex, she would make her own behavior appear normal. That's bad. By chastising her sister, she was really saying, "She expects me to do all this stuff by myself!" That's worse. When I told myself my husband would "be okay with me taking a walk on a beautiful day since I have cancer," what I was really saying was, "Normally my husband expects perfection, but he's being nicer to me since I'm sick." Well, he was nicer to me when I was sick, but he certainly doesn't expect me to push myself to sleeplessness and pain and neurosis any other time. The only one who expects that from me is me!

The more closely I walk with Jesus, the more He shows me what I do or don't need to take care of. Jesus wants to love me. He has always loved me. He wants me to rest and care for everything He has given me. He doesn't want me to be reckless with my time or my family. He doesn't want me bingeing on trash TV or cases of Thin Mints. He doesn't want me developing an addiction to anything but Him. And He doesn't want me to run myself into the ground because I can't stop being busy. Malachi 3:10 says:

"'Bring all the tithes into the storehouse,

That there may be food in My house,

And try Me now in this,'

Says the Lord of hosts,

'If I will not open for you the windows of heaven

And pour out for you such blessing

That there will not be room enough to receive it.'"

It all belongs to Him. My schedule, my time, my desires, my purpose. It's all His. When I'm creating things to do (and labeling it "Others' Expectations") I am taking what is His and being a martyr for my own glory. I am holding back that which He has given me and missing out on a blessing, the blessing of surrender. Letting go and letting God.