REST DAY 9: My Inner Three-Year Old
"Mom, I just really don't like rest time," my three-nager complained before afternoon nap today (like most afternoons). "I want to be up."
"Baby, you've got to rest so you can feel better and do all that you want to do after you've let your body rest."
"It's just not fun," she muttered and stormed back to her bed. "I want all my friends."
My daughter's largest collection of friends right now is a motley crew of miniature dinosaurs, sometimes a cat, her Piglet, and an assortment of wooden trains. She herds this company around her at naptimes and mourns them at night (when I put my foot down to such a large party).
I try my best to let her know that I know how she feels. I was the same, stuffing my bed with loads of similar friends when I was a little girl. I often cried late into the night, grieving the fun and activity of the day, unsure of how to face the quiet of night. (My compassionate parents did a great deal for me, but after an hour or two of comfort, they gently but firmly would inform me that I needed to learn to sleep on my own).
After time I did, but looking at my daughter's wet eyes and furrowed brow, I am taken back there, and yet, realize how much I still have in common now with her complaint. I don't always care for rest time; even this REST time.
Through social media I think I have tried to surround myself with the appearance of friends to protect myself from feelings of loneliness, quiet, or nervousness. I'm realizing what I need is to begin facing my feelings and work through loneliness, quiet, and boredom without distraction.
A silent phone...
A quiet mind, with no stimulus other that what's right in front of it...
A boring, seemingly unproductive day when nothing quantifiable seeemed to happen...
After a full week, today was not surprisingly quiet (something I realize is good and both the kids and I need). And yet I still sought my phone to give input, stimulus, distraction (just an email! a text! A call!) from the children in front of me. I longed for a little something, tiny distractions that would keep me from feeling the weight of a long, boring March day at home.
I certainly prayed and I tried to lean into being present with my kids, even if I felt a little awkward or distracted. God answered my prayer with peace in our house as I cooked dinner and the kids played and watched some TV. The house was scruffy, the toys strewn, but we were all peaceful and that counted for a great deal in my book.
As I thought about my daughter's angst at naptime and the necessity of some boredom and quiet having to happen to create REST, I thought of one of Saint Augustine's prayers:
God of life,
there are days when the burdens we carry chafe our shoulders and wear us down;
when the road seems dreary and endless,
the skies grey and threatening
when our lives have no music in them
and our hearts are lonely,
and our souls have lost their courage.
Flood the path with light, we beseech you;
turn our eyes to where the skies are full of promise.
Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they rest in you.
I love the honesty of this prayer--a recognition that sometimes life is dull and hard, and sometimes just very quiet-- with not even a soundtrack to carry it. But this is where we ask for God's help and where we begin to find true rest, when we come to the end of ourselves.
I don't know if that encourages you, or if I'm the only one over here who can easily feel lonely or bored without social media (or let's be honest, a phone), but this felt like a fitting reminder in the midst of this season: being reminded of the source of true Rest--with or without a dozen stuffed animals around.
JOURNAL PROMPT:
Do you think social media keeps you protected from feelings you'd rather not experience? Which ones? Have you been able to face them in some capacity while being off social media?
"Baby, you've got to rest so you can feel better and do all that you want to do after you've let your body rest."
"It's just not fun," she muttered and stormed back to her bed. "I want all my friends."
My daughter's largest collection of friends right now is a motley crew of miniature dinosaurs, sometimes a cat, her Piglet, and an assortment of wooden trains. She herds this company around her at naptimes and mourns them at night (when I put my foot down to such a large party).
I try my best to let her know that I know how she feels. I was the same, stuffing my bed with loads of similar friends when I was a little girl. I often cried late into the night, grieving the fun and activity of the day, unsure of how to face the quiet of night. (My compassionate parents did a great deal for me, but after an hour or two of comfort, they gently but firmly would inform me that I needed to learn to sleep on my own).
After time I did, but looking at my daughter's wet eyes and furrowed brow, I am taken back there, and yet, realize how much I still have in common now with her complaint. I don't always care for rest time; even this REST time.
Through social media I think I have tried to surround myself with the appearance of friends to protect myself from feelings of loneliness, quiet, or nervousness. I'm realizing what I need is to begin facing my feelings and work through loneliness, quiet, and boredom without distraction.
A silent phone...
A quiet mind, with no stimulus other that what's right in front of it...
A boring, seemingly unproductive day when nothing quantifiable seeemed to happen...
After a full week, today was not surprisingly quiet (something I realize is good and both the kids and I need). And yet I still sought my phone to give input, stimulus, distraction (just an email! a text! A call!) from the children in front of me. I longed for a little something, tiny distractions that would keep me from feeling the weight of a long, boring March day at home.
I certainly prayed and I tried to lean into being present with my kids, even if I felt a little awkward or distracted. God answered my prayer with peace in our house as I cooked dinner and the kids played and watched some TV. The house was scruffy, the toys strewn, but we were all peaceful and that counted for a great deal in my book.
As I thought about my daughter's angst at naptime and the necessity of some boredom and quiet having to happen to create REST, I thought of one of Saint Augustine's prayers:
God of life,
there are days when the burdens we carry chafe our shoulders and wear us down;
when the road seems dreary and endless,
the skies grey and threatening
when our lives have no music in them
and our hearts are lonely,
and our souls have lost their courage.
Flood the path with light, we beseech you;
turn our eyes to where the skies are full of promise.
Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they rest in you.
I love the honesty of this prayer--a recognition that sometimes life is dull and hard, and sometimes just very quiet-- with not even a soundtrack to carry it. But this is where we ask for God's help and where we begin to find true rest, when we come to the end of ourselves.
I don't know if that encourages you, or if I'm the only one over here who can easily feel lonely or bored without social media (or let's be honest, a phone), but this felt like a fitting reminder in the midst of this season: being reminded of the source of true Rest--with or without a dozen stuffed animals around.
JOURNAL PROMPT:
Do you think social media keeps you protected from feelings you'd rather not experience? Which ones? Have you been able to face them in some capacity while being off social media?
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