I went to lunch yesterday with my husband. He told me all about his morning, and I told him about mine. After only my first couple of sentences, though, he said, "Whoa. Take a breath."
I didn't understand what he meant. "What?"
"I don't know. You just sound...." He couldn't quite put it into words.I tried to feel what he might've sensed, but nothing quite came to me. As the day wore on, though--and now, this morning as I sat in my chair and tried to pray--I think I understand what he was hearing.
Yeah, frantic, and I was SO frantic that I didn't even realize (at any meaningful level) I was frantic.
Yesterday was a frantic, frenzied, no-time-to-stop, "must check off those action items from my list," work at break-neck speed, kind of day.
And I know why I do that to myself. More importantly, I know why I must stop. I have to stop because, as far as I know I only have one life to live. A precious life, filled with Grace that I don't even feel because I don't give my soul the space it desperately needs to take it in.
Now. In this moment. I stop.
I feel such gratitude for David that he's sensitive enough to hear that something was really wrong yesterday...that "hint" stayed with me all day, even if it only came to fruition this morning.
I feel such gratitude for my life, full of opportunities for ministry. I have such meaningful work to do, but to do that work with integrity, with authenticity, I must stop and take a breath.
Breathing, breathing, breathing...helps me remember that I am surrounded by the Divine Presence, by God, who doesn't much care whether I get all the little details just right. No, God cares so much more that I remember I'm alive and that this life is pure gift.