Have a Sandwich
It can be very easy to get swept up in the pace of life. Some people have a very hard time saying no to new opportunities, like maybe fulfillment is right around the corner, and it would be such a shame to say no at precisely the time you're about to find it. Other people say yes because they feel needed in some special way, like they're the only ones who are up to this particular task. I don't know, maybe the whole organization WILL fall apart if you don't take on those new responsibilities. Maybe you really are the only qualified leader in this situation. Who am I to say?
But more often it seems like we just say yes and get busier and keep pushing and helping - going - doing - because we put heavy expectations on ourselves and live in an inner space where we are holding up the world. Holding up the architecture of the big world, all by ourselves on our little shoulders.
We aren't. In actual truth, we are creaturely beings, born from the blood and sweat of our mothers. The Bible says we were originally made from dirt, scooped up by the hands of God and crafted into body-things. I love this metaphor so much because what is realer, truer than dirt? It is made of the most foundational elements we have. It is literally the ground beneath all living things. It is ancient and for all we know, eternal. At least, we are quite sure it will outlive all of us.
And so I believe strongly in our creatureliness, yours and mine. I see quite clearly we are limited and mortal. Our dirt selves need a certain balance of minerals to continue to support life. In recent times, post-graduate work and post-wedding frenzy, I've given into this truth much better than I used to. I rest (how radical!). I take days off (real ones). I work from home in my bed (every Wednesday!). I get outside a lot, and I run nearly every day. I feel awake and alive when I run and move and stretch and laugh. I consider all of this an element of obedience to God. I honor my creaturely existence, the fact that I am an organism with needs the 21st century will not give me if I do not radically seek them.
Last Wednesday I was listening to an interview by Krista Tippett with Mary Karr, an American poet and memoirist. She tells a story about a friend who called her one day insisting she was going insane and needed to be institutionalized. Mary Karr digs for more information. "Ok, and what happened?" The friend, an exhausted mother, goes on to explain how she hasn't slept in days, hasn't showered, has crying babies, and hasn't eaten anything. In a stroke of insight, Mary Karr just says, "Have you thought about having a sandwich? Maybe it's time to just have a sandwich."
But more often it seems like we just say yes and get busier and keep pushing and helping - going - doing - because we put heavy expectations on ourselves and live in an inner space where we are holding up the world. Holding up the architecture of the big world, all by ourselves on our little shoulders.
We aren't. In actual truth, we are creaturely beings, born from the blood and sweat of our mothers. The Bible says we were originally made from dirt, scooped up by the hands of God and crafted into body-things. I love this metaphor so much because what is realer, truer than dirt? It is made of the most foundational elements we have. It is literally the ground beneath all living things. It is ancient and for all we know, eternal. At least, we are quite sure it will outlive all of us.
And so I believe strongly in our creatureliness, yours and mine. I see quite clearly we are limited and mortal. Our dirt selves need a certain balance of minerals to continue to support life. In recent times, post-graduate work and post-wedding frenzy, I've given into this truth much better than I used to. I rest (how radical!). I take days off (real ones). I work from home in my bed (every Wednesday!). I get outside a lot, and I run nearly every day. I feel awake and alive when I run and move and stretch and laugh. I consider all of this an element of obedience to God. I honor my creaturely existence, the fact that I am an organism with needs the 21st century will not give me if I do not radically seek them.
Last Wednesday I was listening to an interview by Krista Tippett with Mary Karr, an American poet and memoirist. She tells a story about a friend who called her one day insisting she was going insane and needed to be institutionalized. Mary Karr digs for more information. "Ok, and what happened?" The friend, an exhausted mother, goes on to explain how she hasn't slept in days, hasn't showered, has crying babies, and hasn't eaten anything. In a stroke of insight, Mary Karr just says, "Have you thought about having a sandwich? Maybe it's time to just have a sandwich."
“The voice of God never gives me a long term plan, it never helps me with any kind of lottery number or anything. But it’s that voice that says, ‘you know, you need to sit down and have something to eat. You need to get something to eat or its not gonna be fun to be you anymore.’”
-Mary Karr
The voice of God says to us there is a rhythm of life, and it is in delicate balance. Do you need to rest, or to get up and run, or to work, or to sleep? Do you need more water or more time in the garden? Do you need to move out to the country to escape the fossil fuels and noise, or do you need to get closer to the company of other people?
There is much to be done in the world, and there will always be a thing to do. What I'm asking you is, does it ALL belong on your shoulders?
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