When I left the nursing home this morning after attending my friend's death, I drove to the running track where we train on Monday and Thursdays. I was dressed in what my friend jokingly calls my "priest tuxedo" - black slacks, sandals, and a shirt with a Roman collar. Not the usual wear for a training run.
I arrived about 7:30 a.m. and began to walk the track while awaiting my coach's arrival for our scheduled 8:00 a.m. training.
It was a grace to be in this familiar place doing this familiar thing, laps on the track, even though I was just walking. I didn't have to do anything but follow the lanes and just be. The similarity to a labyrinth was not lost one me. This, I thought, is my labyrinth.
The coach arrived and understood when I explained the events of my evening and my decision to go home and get a nap. We walked about a mile or so together, and somewhere along the way my sandal broke. When you wear out the sandals you generally wear when ministering, it's probably time to see how the rest of you is doing. After walking barefoot for about 1/4 of a mile, I headed home and he began his planned workout.
I took a nap, a wonderful, deep, out-like-a-light nap. When I woke, I felt better but not totally refreshed. In the past week, there have been a lot of extra activities, including visits to my dying friend. I have a busy life in general; this week has been more-so than usual. There is personal restoration to do.
I called the people I had scheduled for the afternoon, and asked if they would mind moving their appointments to tomorrow afternoon instead. They understood and accommodated the change. I cleared my evening, too, deciding just to take care of my needs today.
So I took a day off, and much to my ego's dismay, the world did not stop turning, the sun did not quit shining, and the Milky Way did not collapse upon itself into a giant black hole.
Tomorrow will be a busy day, and Saturday will be a busy day, and Sunday will be a busy day, and on and on. I'll be ready for them, because today I listened to my mind, my heart, my soul and my body. We can only give what we have to give.
Take care of yourself. When your shoes wear out, take a nap. The world will keep turning.
The song "Come with Me into the Fields" by Dan Schutte came to mind. It is based on Matthew 9:37. Let's close with his words instead of mine.
The fields are high and summer's days are few;
green fields have turned to gold.
The time is here for the harvesting,
for gathering home into barns.
The harvest is plenty; laborers are few.
Come with me into the fields.
Your arms may grow weary; your shoes will wear thin.
Come with me into the fields.
The seeds were sown by other hands than yours;
nurtured and cared for they grow.
But those who have sown will not harvest them;
the reaping will not be their care.
The harvest is plenty; laborers are few.
Come with me into the fields.
Your arms may grow weary; your shoes will wear thin.
Come with me into the fields.
pace e bene
David+
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