My Epiphany

I thought I had this writing thing down. The real writing. Like at the request of a professional who expected to see it in her inbox.

All through the summer and fall I’ve written and edited by faith. Truly. I trusted that Lord would make a way to get it done in a timely manner. That I could take Sundays completely off. That I could put down my work and engage with my family and friends when I needed to.

But when January and a different request arrived, it was as if I hadn’t learned anything at all! I plunged in, starting with an unrealistic deadline for myself. With that date fixed in my head, I figured I had to work constantly to get there. I started in the morning and worked late into the evening with few breaks. I only took time off to attend my sons’ basketball games.

For ten days I worked. Then, as I lay in bed, jittery, frantic, unable to sleep, I had an epiphany: I wasn’t made to work 24/7. You’d think I’d know that, but I guess I didn’t. Not really. I thought if I used all the hours available to me in a day, I’d finish more quickly. But it doesn’t work like that. Not when you don’t eat right or sleep right or exercise. Not when you have no down time and no interaction with others.

So on the 11^th day, I stopped. Not stopped working, but stopped working non-stop. I took regular breaks, ate regular meals, exercised. And in doing so, I accomplished as much or more than when I pushed myself over the limit. And the end result was better work. My husband concurred when I told him my plan. His support helped me give myself “permission” to take breaks.

I really hope this lesson has taken root now. And I hope it is a lesson I needed to because deadlines imposed by others and not myself hover on the horizon. But whatever the case may be, I know that by pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion and frustration, I’ve also pushed to a new level of trust in the Lord. I work hard in the time I have to work but I have to trust Him not only to give me the time to work but the creativity and freshness of mind I need for that time.

Out of My Comfort Zone

Usually when we talk about “comfort zones,” we mean doing something we wouldn’t normally do. We aren’t really talking about physical comfort—the kind of bed we like to sleep in, our favorite pillow, our personal space. But lately it seems that the Lord has been prodding me from my physical comfort, and it hasn’t been, well, comfortable.

Besides the discomfort of the body, though, I’ve discovered that I don’t like being uncomfortable. I’ve gotten used to things the way I like them, and I don’t enjoy when they get disturbed. And yet, when things have required enduring less than ideal conditions lately, every situation has been tied to relationships.

I know the Lord desires me to sacrifice my personal, physical comfort in order to love others, but that really came home to me during a church service during this past Advent season. As we sang a hymn about baby Jesus in the manger, the fact of his physical discomfort struck me. We know He gave up the glory of heaven to walk with us in the dust of earth. But He gave up the comfort of heaven, too. Gave it up to be wrapped in a coarse blanket, laid on prickly hay in a hard manger. Not my idea of comfortable! But He considered His comfort of far less importance than our eternal souls.

People are important to the Lord. And they should hold the same importance for me if I am growing to reflect His nature. I know that. So I sacrificed my comfort in several very different situations over the past few weeks. And while I congratulated myself for enduring, I did not endure with grace or joy, as Jesus did. Yes, I didn’t throw a fit and demand my definitions of comfort be met, but I sacrificed with many sighs and much complaining. I have a feeling I’ll get to do this lesson over again until I get it right.