It's seven in the morning. Despite a raging illness that has placed small lances inside my throat passageway, I've been awake for two hours. A mug of hot coffee reposes on my desk, wafting seductive aromas my way. Lukewarm eggs and tepid toast top my childrens' breakfast plates, long since cooled as I've waited for the first stirs of "Good morning!" My own eyes have gone from open to half-closed as I've busied myself, far too early, in order to get a good start to the day, and now I'm nearly spent.
I perch on my hard kitchen chair, pounding on these keys, realizing that nothing remains for my morning but this solitude. I could go back to bed - out of principle. I could finish some correspondence, study the Word, pamper my hair or my face. But if I am honest, I just can't. And in this pause - this lull between tasks and adventures - my chair feels suddenly soft. It's good - oh so good - to sit simply, thinking thoughts, with my coffee.
Too often, I've blazed on ahead, rousing my troops, forced myself forward, and tromped on others' quiet spaces in the process. How much we need these un-allocated moments! How beautiful to be created as creatures of Pauses, not just Progress. In the blank face of my nine-year old as he gazes out his bedroom window at ... nothing ... in the half-guilty laugh of my spouse as he 'checks back in' during a conversation he'll never remember ... even in the companiable togetherness of my two younger children as they sit and fiddle with toys in their room ... there is undeniable Life.
For it is in these Pauses that a certain sweeping Progress unfolds. Embracing the stops ... the gaps ... the unexpected 'nothing spaces' utilizes them as they were intended, but our bodies and minds will find them, all the same. Sudden illness the moment one slows down. A bout of unexplained fatigue. Mental and emotional breakdown. These may be our soul's only means of crying out for mercy and rest. It's far less painful to provide the mercy and rest by taking it when it comes - but it will come, either way.
I recal an essay I once wrote about the art of Stillness. I was newly married then, wondering how and when I'd start my career. I noted people such as Moses, Paul, and even Jesus who encountered their Pause just prior to an explosion in ministry or service. Not all Pauses creat such visible results, but the Progress takes place just the same. Consider the refreshment we feel after a long soak in the tub or even a long, 'brainless' run. What about 'the year I didn't know what to do?' (don't we all have one ... or more?) What happened during that time could not taken place in a year of frantic activity, could it? We writers are fully aware of the 'Aha!' moment that often occurs on a quick bathroom break. And what, if not Pause, is the reason for the time-outs so steadily inflicted on toddlers, courtrooms, athletes, and even Congress?
Perhaps we should Time Out more often.
In my own culture of doing, reaping, producing, and benchmarks, I choose to stop measuring some things. The weight of my life based on my schedule. The worth of my children based on theirs. The time it takes to savor this cup of coffee, walk a mile with my son, construct cookies with my daughter, or have 'quality time' with my spouse.
But most of all, I will stop this fierce advance into DOING. Instead I will let myself BE, Pauses most of all, and rejoice in the Progress (seen or not) that this brings.
Maybe I'll go back to bed now, after all ...
