still waters

i am only in the first week of my being still blog and already i have failed.  miserably.  i was rushing this morning.  hurrying.  late for an appointment.  late because i had, at the last minute, decided that i did, indeed, have time to paint a shelf which i wanted to hang in our guest room.  this shelf had been sitting in storage for almost two years.  but today was the day that i felt compelled to pull it out and begin painting.  why?  i have no earthly idea.  i came across it while putting away some Christmas decorations and within minutes had a paint tarp laid out and a can of eggshell paint open.  this is just how it goes some days. i am sure there is a name for this disorder.  but, let's not go there...just yet.   it is the same disorder which made me wake up yesterday and decide it to be the perfect day for tackling julia child's boef bourgionon.   seriously, i was completely okay with making sloppy joes for dinner, until i came across julia's recipe lying crumpled in the bottom of my purse.  the recipe, however, had only been in my possession two weeks, much better than the shelf of two years.  still, what is that all about?  am i really so lacking in focus. can i not plan seven days of a dinner menu and stick to it?  can i not schedule an appointment without a can of paint interfering?  yikes.  it is probably the same disorder which allows me to walk upstairs to retrieve a sweater only to end up hanging curtains.  recently, i headed to the garage fridge for a can of coke and ended up reorganizing my husband's tool box.  i ask, just how does one go from coke to tools? should i happen to travel down the basement in search of a puzzle, i might very well end up playing a game of pool or sewing throw pillows.  one never can tell with a disorder like mine.  perhaps i can attribute it to the rigors of motherhood.   that  would make me feel at least a tiny bit better.  i am not sure though if even that relieves me of any responsibility. 
i had made a vow last year to do less in an hour than i thought possible.  seriously.  less.  it really was a good idea in theory. i realize in most workplaces, the goal is to do more in each hour.  to improve productivity and increase output.  but, perhaps they don't suffer from my disease.  since having children, my thinking has been to run into one more store.  shop for one more item.  stop by one more stop.   plant one more plant. ah-ha!...i think i've settled on an appropriate name:  this is the disorder of onemore.  i suffer from full blown onemorism.  i am a self-diagnosed onemoristic.    if there are 5 minutes before the start of carpool line at connor's school, i really don't have to run to the gas station, the dry cleaners and the flower market.  i really might be late if i think i can accomplish all of that in just 300 minutes.  but, for those of us that suffer with this strange and urgent disorder, 300 minutes sounds like an awful long time to just be sitting in the car waiting for the school bell to ring.  if you really want to see evidence of this issue, come with me to the doctor's office. it has nothing to do with what happens in the doctor's office.  it is what happens out in the waiting room.  you really wouldn't believe what i have been known to bring along.  in the case that i could have 10 minutes to kill before they call my name,  i am determined to be prepared.  there will be no downtime for this busy mom.  there will be no mindless, mind-numbing thumbing through woman's day or glamour.  there will be no simple chit-chat with the other waiting room waiters.  oh no.   there are always coupons to clip, files to organize, pictures to scrapbook, checkbooks to balance, esssays to edit, sweaters to knit, origame birds to create.  oh, yes...you think i am kidding.  just ask my kids.  having a tooth pulled or a shot given doesn't come close to the horror of having a mom like me in the waiting room.  recently, i considered purchasing a rolling suitcase, just for our visits to the various healthcare providers around town.  it would be necessary for the wheels to be well made.  state of the art design.  because you know we will be the family running recklessly into the waiting room.  running in late, because of course,  i just happened to find a two year old shelf and a can of eggshell white paint. and i had time.
so i write this today, confessing my failure.  my being still blog was sort of my new year's resolution (jody style).  i had high hopes.  i know it is important and even necessary.  i want my children to learn the art of being still.  being quiet.  being alone. being at peace.  i want them to know how to rest.  that is something our culture and our lifestyle doesn't teach well.  that is something i don't do well... in this past year, God has especially convicted me of my busy-ness.  He has spelled it out for me.  He has, more than once, put the writing on the wall.  with four children and a 5th one on her way, we will always be busy.  we have chosen that kind of life.  but, that does not excuse us from reckless-busy.  it does not support haphazard-busy.  it in no way promotes careless, unintentional-busy.  the prophet isaiah tries to tell the people of jerusalem that they are spinning their wheels with unimportant, insignificant to-do lists...
  

"for it is: do and do, and do and do,

rule on rule, rule on rule;

a little here, a little there..."

they choose, however, to shut their ears.  they call his words non-sense.  though they do sound a little
dr. suess-ish, these are the words from the Lord.  words of instruction.  words of warning.  when the people mock him and resist his instruction, the next phrase is, "very well, then..."  oh, boy.  you just know it is not going to be good when God or His prophet says, "very well, then."   i remember hearing that phrase from my grandmother's lips as a child.  it never meant good things were coming.  in this case, isaiah, is simply saying, if you are going to go about doing your own thing.  if you are going to ignore and mock the Lord, well...then...you will reap the consequence of that decision.  can you just see this wise, white- bearded man in his dignified robes washing his hands of these hard-headed people and their stupidity?  i can picture the shrug of his shoulders as he walks away thinking, it's your funeral, guys...i tried.  before he completely exits the city walls, though, isaiah turns around and says, oh, by the way, jerusalemites...one last thing:

 "this is the resting place, let the weary rest;

and this is the place of repose ---

but they would not listen.

so then, the word of the Lord to them will become:

do and do, do and do

rule on rule, rule on rule;

a little here, a little there --

(here's the kicker)....

so that they will go and fall backward,

be injured and snared

and captured."  ~ isaiah 28 

don't those words just make you want to duck? crouch? cringe?  take cover?  those final words just scream "very well, then."  don't they?   fall backward, injured, snared, captured.  those are neither promising nor comforting words.  none of them sound good to my ears.  but i am just as guilty as these stubborn people of jerusalem.  i can easily wake up on any given morning and worship at the feet of my to-do list.  in the middle of my quiet time, i am guilty of doodling reminders in my journal about incredibly (not) important things that have to be accomplished.  my mind wanders when i pray.  the first thoughts of my morning are often about What is ahead of me that day, not Who is ahead of me every day.   my husband has even caught me in the middle of church using my bulletin as my own personal spreadsheet of activities.  Jesus tells us, "this is the resting place, let the weary rest; and this is the place of repose."  He couldn't be clearer.  This is the Place.  "he who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will REST in the shadow of the almighty....He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge." psalm 91.   psalm 23 reads, "He makes me lie down in green pastures... He will lead me beside still waters...."

        In the shelter.

                    In the shadow.

                                 Under His wings.

                                                In green pastures.

                                                                Beside still waters.

                                                                               This is the Place.

so, today i failed. i admit it.  i suffered once again from an ugly bout of onemoreism and it made me rushed and late and slightly frantic.  i found no shelter, no shadow, no green pastures.  and as i raced across the chattahoochee river, i am certain that didn't count as "walking beside still waters."  but, here's the thing:  i know these places exist and i know my Lord is already there.  He calls me and He will continue to call me.  He does not wash His hands of me.  He does not shrug His shoulders and walk away from my foolishness.  He continues to beckon.  He continues to invite.  He is not asking me to paint shelves or pick up dry cleaning.  He doesn't really care if i make dinner out of a can or out of a french cookbook.  He does not judge me by the number of coupons i clip or the number of pages which i write. He doesn't want me to accomplish One More Thing.  He wants me to desire only One Thing:  to walk beside still waters.