Slow Down, You Move Too Fast...

Slow down, you move too fast.

You got to make the morning last.

Just kicking down the cobble stones.

Looking for fun and feelin' groovy.

I've got no deeds to do, No promises to keep. I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep. Let the morning time drop all its petals on me. Life, I love you, All is groovy. - Simon and Garfunkel Who in the world has time for this, Simon and G.?????!!!  Kicking cobble stones?  A leisurely morning?   A petal rain shower?  It's more like a cram down some toast, I'm lucky if I get a shower, grab my bags, trip on the cobble stones the city still hasn't paved yet, and go! "It's like being addicted - only it is not to drugs or alcohol but to activity and doing.  Our bodies physiologically cannot seem to get off adrenaline to slow down.  We fear how many things might fall apart.  So we just keep going." (p. 205)  It's like he (Scazzero) read my mind!  Activity, activity, activity.  It is exhausting and not a sustainable lifestyle.  I have slowly learned over the years, and continue to learn every single day, to break the busyness addiction.    For so long I packed not only my work schedule, but my social schedule.  I was busy with work Monday through Friday, and packed my social, church, and house-keeping (bills, mail, errands) activities on Saturdays and Sundays.  I even brought work home over the weekends and added that to the pile of things to do.  I was getting burned out, exhausted, and very bitter.  I had nothing left to give to myself or to others.  My set-aside times with God were at night (the only pause I had) and usually I fell asleep only to wake up with my devotional on the floor.   After many, many conversations with God (usually driving back late at night completely exhausted after work or an event and on the verge of tears), that I finally received the message.  It wasn't even a phrase God spoke to me, or a verse that I read, but a deep, persistent,  gut-knowing that this life, this busyness, this exhaustion, was not working for me.  This was not what God had in mind for me.  This was not His best for me.   I slowly started making changes.  I decided that work would be work and home would be home.  Even if I had to stay a little later at work from Monday-Friday, I was going to have a day off - a Sabbath.  Saturdays have become my day to not work, not pack my social schedule, but to sleep, be quiet, pray, read a great book like this one, and, if I feel like it, visit with a friend.  That's it.  Sometimes the only words I speak on some Saturdays are, "May I please have a grande mocha?...With whip!"  I have said "No" to a lot of friends, events, and nights out on the town, but, wow, what a difference it has made in my attitude come Monday morning.  I feel more recharged and more ready to give. This has been a VERY hard lesson and it continues to be every day. I still over-book and cave to the "YES," thus giving my Saturdays away.   Every day I have to make a choice to keep my schedule clear for Saturday.  Not only that, but I have become more discerning and strict with what I commit myself to.  I have said "NO" to opportunities at church, work, etc. so I can pour myself into what I am already committed to.   Thank you, Lord, for this lesson you continue to gently pound into me every single day.  :) "It is the practice of stopping that makes the practice of the presence of God a real possibility." "God uses disorienting events and experiences to do a profound inner work in us."  (p. 205).   Can Scazzero get an "Amen?"  AMEN!!  It all goes back to brokenness, vulnerability, and honesty before God, doesn't it?  There have been some profound moments in my life (illness, broken relationships, etc.) that have knocked me flat on my butt.  But it has been in those incredibly hard, helpless, "I can't do it alone" places that God has worked on my insides and been so loving and gentle that it actually hurts.  I can't help but be changed.  As I mentioned in my last post, I hate the pain, but I love what the pain does.  Thank you, Lord, for investigating our lives, layer by layer, even when it hurts.  You love us that much. You are that good.