“We’ll Work Till Jesus Comes, We’ll Work…”

The list of  “chores” I have to do over the summer months when I’m out of school far exceeds the number of days I have off. Since that is generally the case, I like to wake up on my first day that school is out and get crackin’ on my list. Nothing gives more pleasure to a self-defined workaholic than marking things off on a “to-do” list. (And yes, I’m that one who if I do something NOT on my list, I add it just so I can mark it off! You too?)

School released us on Friday at noon and rather than come home and start marking things off my list, I took a two and one half hour nap. In my bed. On purpose.

Gene and I then went out to dinner Friday night, taking our time and enjoying our meal and conversation; absorbing the feeling of having enough time instead of our usual “rush to get this done so we can get that done.”

I tucked myself in a few hours later, had a good night’s sleep followed by a mid-morning nap on Saturday. Followed by another good night’s sleep on Saturday followed by the ever-so-rare Sunday afternoon nap!

The reason that these events are so significant to me is that I had to give myself “permission” to rest like that. Resting is not my strong suit.

Early in my life I became convinced that my worth was wrapped up in work. I don’t want to place blame here but I clearly remember my mother telling me that I was lazy because I sat down to dress.

At that time, we only had heat in two or three rooms in our house and one of those rooms was the kitchen/den. (Our house was open concept way before it was cool!) Onward. At any rate, we could close the door to that room which kept it pretty cozy and I remember taking my clothes in there on cold mornings, sitting on the brown print sofa and dressing for the day.

It never occurred to me to stand up to dress. Maybe it was laziness. Maybe it was modesty. Maybe it was efficiency but nevertheless, I learned that day that I was lazy and decided then and there to outwork everyone to overcome that label. My worth was clearly tied up in my work.

Sometime after that fateful pronouncement in the kitchen/den, I moved back in (long story) with my grandparents. Papaw left the house for work by 6am and I can clearly remember my Mamaw cooking his breakfast and packing his lunch every single day. If I close my eyes I can still smell the smells and hear the whispered sounds of their conversation before he left. Mamaw always walked him to the door, opened it, kissed him goodbye and closed and locked it behind him.

Mamaw then set out on her own unwritten list of chores. That was decades ago and there were no dishwashers, garbage disposals, clothes dryers, trash pickup nor many of the other convenience items we live with today.

She broke beans, peeled apples, fried okra, mashed potatoes, made biscuits, canned fruits and vegetables, kept a spotless house and I don’t remember her EVER complaining for a minute. She was the hardest working person I knew and it was my goal in life to be like Mamaw.

When you consider that my worth was wrapped up in work and that the woman I admired most in the world was the definition of a workaholic (although joyful), it’s no wonder I am who I am and how I am today.

I have to give myself permission to nap. To stop. To ignore the popcorn on the carpet and the ring around the tub. And so far, no one has condemned me for it.

Due to Gene’s current condition with Guillain-Barre Syndrome and Hannah’s upcoming Biliopancreatic Diversion with Duodenal Switch surgery, this summer is going to be rife with work.

It will take prayer and discipline for me to balance what I’d like to do, what has to be done and what should be done. I will have to bring my plans and ideas and goals into line with what those around me need. I will have to call upon others when I simply lack the resources to meet the needs. I will have to seek God in all that I think, say and do.

As important, and even beneficial, as those first two are, that last one is crucial. And honestly, it’s how I should live my life whether or not I am a workaholic. And really, this summer, instead of attempting to fulfill my usual goal of spending the most time at the pool possible and getting a great tan (don’t judge), I think I’ll work on a new goal.

My goal this summer will be to be quiet enough to hear God when He speaks to me. So that I can hear Him say, “You’ve done enough today.” “That person needs a kind word right now.” “It’s okay for you to show you care.” “Be still and soak up this moment”, and so many other things that He says without me ever being aware.

I’m convinced that if my ear is tuned to my Father in heaven, He will give me the rest I require and challenge me with the work that needs to be done. The unique perspective for me though is this: there will be balance and as I obey, He will be glorified.

And honestly, that’s the kind of “work” I will gladly give my life for!

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10a