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Does productivity make anyone else feel valuable? It only seems fitting that every year December finds me waiting for something. This time last year, I was [quite possibly] bigger than a [tiny] house waiting on our littlest love. I prayed he would come early, but as he wasn’t due until the beginning of this year I wondered if he would. And he didn’t. I was restless, achey, wobbly and harried. The robust energy with which I embraced the Christmas season felt forced and insufficient, which made me feel insufficient. And God, in his grace, met me with peace from every anxiety and rest in the waiting.

This year I find myself waiting, yet again. And there is a sense of goodness in it. At the beginning of the holiday season( literally ON Thanksgiving) I became ill. Not the 24- hour bug kind of ill, the virus kind. Which meant scary things like isolation and quarantine. Even for an introvert, nothing about staying inside appealed to me. I planned to go full-throttle Christmas Queen with my girls, and I was excited to not be pregnant so I could have crazy-mom-at-Christmas energy to go and do all of the things. But then it hit hard. And I was down for almost two weeks. Nothing about that felt productive. I couldn’t even hold my children. I could barely shower, and my fatigue left me feeling useless every hour. Yes, it was that bad. The Monday after resting for what seemed like an eternity(over 2 weeks, people!), I tried to resume normal duties. I couldn’t. I spent the day in bed trying to work on things I had put off, trying to clean, trying to do something–anything! But I just. couldn’t. do it. And I didn’t just feel crummy physically, I felt emotionally depleted. Nothing I did worked. Nothing was accomplished. I felt SO invaluable and SO defeated.

But I’m learning that sometimes the most productive thing I can do is allow myself to rest.

Redeemingthemundane

What is going on, Lord? Why doesn my heart feel this way? I wondered quietly. It wasn’t until yesterday, when I described my emotions to a new friend that something clicked. It was something she mentioned in passing, but as I listened I realized my heart needed it: “Susanna, I’m not enough. And I just needed to admit that. I need help. I need Jesus”.

There’s a sweet song by Rain for Roots that paraphrases Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28-30:

Come to me. Walk with me. Learn the rhythms of my grace. Come to me --I have all you need. Learn to rest even while you are awake.
Are you tired?
Are you worried?
Worn out from the day?
Have you been in a hurry? 

I will slow the pace.

The words kept running over and over in my mind like a gently babbling brook. And as I pondered my friend’s words, I made the same admission: I cannot do this. I cannot be enough. I need Jesus.

The lie were told as women is that we are enough. And in that, we can do it all. In fact, we can HAVE it all. We can juggle a million and one things. And shouldn’t we? This is the age of women! This is OUR time! What I’m realizing more and more-what God continues to impress upon my heart—is the truth that I am imperfect, flawed and fragile. The sobering truth for me—for us all-is that our bodies were designed to need rest. To be quiet. To weaken over time.

We’re restless, aimless people ever seeking fulfillment in our own pursuits. We need people. We need to do. But more importantly, we need to know that our neediness can only be met with peace by the One ordained it.

Redeemingthemundane

Last night I sat down with my mental “to do” list for today streaming through my mind. That same friend who was kind enough to let me see her imperfections suggested giving myself one goal a day. She said that it was something she had begun to do and it caused her to measure her days without feeling overwhelmed. So, today I tried it. And it worked! Less because of more and more because of perspective. It just happened to be a more productive day than the others. And I was tempted to glory in my flesh until I remembered this lesson.

And so this season, even though I’m humbled to be learning something I (in my pride) feel I should already know, I’m thankful. Thankful for the reminder to slow down and rest. Thankful for the grace given to remain steadfast(even if it’s only breath-by-breath). Thankful for the gift of waiting.

Dear friend, wherever you are, whoever you are, remember the freedom in admitting you are not, in fact enough. Run to the Faithful Savior who always is.