I’ve been working on a post most of the day. It started as a short one, grew longer and then became mammoth. I don’t know how much will eventually be published here, but it keeps coming like a flood and I want to follow it to its end before I edit for posting.

I’m taking a break from it right now, though. Sitting in bed, candles lit everywhere, incense burning (sandalwood — reminds me of India). Actually the whole affair right now reminds me of India, the smell, the low lights, writing in the cot that served as my bed (because I didn’t have any other furniture in my room), a cup of green tea cooling on the bedside table, headphones on, everyone else in bed, and me, sitting with the laptop or my journal capturing the events of the day, sights, smells, experiences, defeats, victories… Yeah, everything right now is like India. Except the softness of my bed… (that cot was dang hard)

Today was a good day. I wrote. Until it got too dark to see anything but the screen. And I realized the sun had come and gone and I still had yet to get out of my pjs or take a shower.

I hardly accomplished a thing on my "to-do list"; didn’t make any of the calls I’d planned, didn’t clean, didn’t do laundry…. That’s what happens when writing consumes me. I forget about the rest of the world, lose all track of time and everything I’d planned to do goes out the window. I can’t stop it once it starts. I finally took a shower and even then I was talking out loud to myself to help remember what it is I wanted to write next, where I was going with the ideas.

Sitting here tonight, knowing that I’ve accomplished so little, I feel the pressure of the ticking clock. I need a permanent, full-time job, I need to clean my apartment, and all those other I-need-to-get-myself-together-and-get-out-there thoughts pound on my mind’s door, insisting on being given an audience.

Yet at the same time, I feel extremely liberated and alive. In a way I never feel at the end of a day at work. The three days I work I leave feeling drained and depressed, exhausted and spiritually dry. That’s just not right. Something is wrong here, and I’m finally willing to look at it and ask myself some hard whys. You may say it’s obvious: this isn’t the job for me. Yeah, I agree. I knew that quite some time ago, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. Desperation for financial security will cause you to delude yourself about a great many things.

But at the same time, I see God’s fingerprints all my current work situation. And I have a strong desire to stay till they hire on the permanent person — which will probably be sometime in May. I so badly want to get things in order, get it all organized and ready so the new person just needs to show up. If I can do that it should make her transition into this crazy job a lot easier. I can’t explain why, but I really want to do that for her (whoever she is). In fact, it’s what’s made me finally want to go to work lately.

I feel caught in this weird dilemma of closed doors, current-part time work, feeling exhausted and sucked dry, internal pressure to look for more work but strongly desiring to keep the schedule and life I’ve got right now.

Barney, my counselor, told me one day about his loathing of stop lights, how he used to get so impatient, and drive his wife mad with his incessant toe and finger tapping and, "come ON!" comments at every stop light. Finally, she said something that shifted his whole paradigm on them. She asked if he really believed that there are no accidents in a Christian’s life, if God really does know everything that will happen to us and has the final say in whether it will or won’t come to pass in our lives. Barney agreed, yes, he believes that. Well, she continued, do you think that maybe God knew you were going to catch this red light? Silence…. You think maybe it would be beneficial to find out why God wanted to slow you down at just this point? Maybe look around you, really see everything at that particular intersection?

I have often wondered, and asked God, in the weeks since I heard that story, if this is a stop light time in my life. Despite my best and ongoing efforts, I still don’t have a permanent job. I work only part-time as it is. I have a lot of time on my hands. Much of that is spent in resting. I’m so exhausted these days. I feel so beat up still.

A few days ago, as I talked with God, He answered my barrage of why questions with a gentle whisper. "This is a time for healing. You wouldn’t have asked your dad to get up and mow the lawn right after his heart attack, or asked Helen to slam back into her full-on crazy fun-loving life after the years of chemo she’s endured, would you? Then why are you demanding yourself to get out there and live the super-sized people-ministry life you’re used to when you’ve had years of heart-soul-spirit trauma? This is your time for healing. Rest. Heal. Let Me take care of you."

Wow.

….Is that just wishful thinking, or was that really God I heard? I think it was Him. He’s said it several times since then. But it just seems too good — and yet scary — to be true. I’m eating away at the inheritance I got from mom and dad. Once its gone, that’s it. I’ll be broke. Oh, but I want to just live this part-time life! Live off that money. Write. Rest. Heal.

How blessed I am that I live in a country, and a time in life, where I can ask those questions and make those choices! There are others who are not as fortunate as me. They cannot even afford the time to think of such things, nonetheless live them.

Stop light or stop sign, I’m grateful for it whatever it is. Days like today refresh my soul and renew what little strength I have.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matt 11:28-30