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Restoration

Rest.  Is hard.  Last week my best friend gifted me a trip, alongside her, to 5 days at a cabin in the woods.  It was my Christmas present, and so much more.

I had lofty goals for myself of leaving that time and space with a manuscript ready to print for editing.  Of course, when you decide to submit your days and time to His plans and not your own, things can, and usually do change.  What I thought was going to be a productive week of writing, turned into a productive week of some writing, but mainly:  rest and war.

I spent an entire day actually listening to my own notes…revelations that God has been showing me over the last two years.  I keep telling myself that I will share them, get them out, but yet I held them close, for two years.  What I’m recognizing:  I hardly ever allow myself the time to sit and process.

We came home from the trip and literally jumped in the car heading to Boston.  Now, as I sit in the tiniest little library, reminiscent of my own childhood library, I am reminded that the flow of chaos is the nastiest distraction of them all.  Yet again, I willingly stepped in.  A flow that forces me to feel, think, move, and expend at rates that I may not currently be equipped for.  To place weight upon myself, that is more illusion than reality.

To eliminate the space that has been deemed holy and life bringing, to suffocate it out with the stress of the day to day.

This is not a new concept, and I know I’ve written about it before.  Yet, here I am again.  Wrestling and sitting with the same circumstances.  I’ve created a rhythm that is more of me and less of Him, when it should be the opposite.  I feel tired.  I feel worn.  I feel sleepy.  Sure our normal is not our normal right now, but when I’m honest with myself I know that carries little impact to the gravity of my current state.

If rest is war in itself, which I firmly believe – why am I not honoring Him with rest?  How can I bring my utmost, if I can barely get out of bed?  Why have I allowed myself to feel shame around rest, not just sleep, but rhythms that create space to sit, think, and breathe in more of Him?  Why have I convinced myself that the work to be done, must take priority over the actions that don’t deliver a tangible product?

Somewhere along the way I’ve made an agreement that righteousness and holiness and diligence are earned through the weight of tangible productivity and that is a lie.  

So again, I’m fighting.  I fighting to remain steadfast in His truth.  May I be restored daily, spirit renewed (Psalm 51:12) because I’ve been working in my own moral muscle (Romans 8:5), and that is not where I want to be.

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