wow. First week of the final chapter of my schooling at MHGS...and I am dragging already. This undeniable lethargy could be related to the fact that we were busy with some activity or another nearly every evening this week. Last night, after spending some quality time with my little ladies at our most-frequented park, Faith collapsed on the floor and said, "I am so tired I just feel like crying for some reason!" I couldn't have summed it up any better.
I didn't completely lose sight of being kind to myself...I actually ended up excusing myself from a couple of other commitments this weekend. My hope, though, is that at some point I begin to recognize my limits and live within them...rather than disregard them until I can no longer turn a blind eye. Learning my limits will keep me from having to go back and say "no" where I have already said "yes".
Sleep. That's what took precedence the last couple of nights. And it is beckoning me once again...
Showing posts with label rest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rest. Show all posts
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Day #15...
yes...I have shortened the title to this post. I'm just bored with the long title.
Just a little thought for the night. I've learned that self care necessitates that I spend at least some portion of the day or of my week being alone (a difficult task for a wife and mother of three). The fascinating thing I'm discovering, though, is that when I give myself this space and time to be alone, to check-in with myself, to sort of test my own temperature to assess the needs consistently, then I find that I am much more grateful for the time that I have with others. I'm not resentful towards them for being a part of the busyness that consumes my life. I'm not dissociating while i'm with them thinking of all the other things I should or could be doing. I'm not feeling hopeless and depleted because I have nothing left to give. Instead, I feel the honor of being able to come to a place where I can offer who I am to the relationship and can wait expectantly for the other to show up as well. A well-rested soul is a soul alive and ready to engage.
Just a little thought for the night. I've learned that self care necessitates that I spend at least some portion of the day or of my week being alone (a difficult task for a wife and mother of three). The fascinating thing I'm discovering, though, is that when I give myself this space and time to be alone, to check-in with myself, to sort of test my own temperature to assess the needs consistently, then I find that I am much more grateful for the time that I have with others. I'm not resentful towards them for being a part of the busyness that consumes my life. I'm not dissociating while i'm with them thinking of all the other things I should or could be doing. I'm not feeling hopeless and depleted because I have nothing left to give. Instead, I feel the honor of being able to come to a place where I can offer who I am to the relationship and can wait expectantly for the other to show up as well. A well-rested soul is a soul alive and ready to engage.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Mission: Care for Self Day #4
Just a small lesson for today: Sometimes self-care is simply taking a moment to ask yourself what you need. There are moments, days, or seasons where needs are easier to assess. And there are moments, days, or seasons where identifying need seems like a nearly impossible task. For today, however, sickness is declaring that my body needs rest. Therefore, I am signing out early tonight.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Advent - A Season of Anticipation
Brandon, Lindsey and Micah came to visit us for Thanksgiving and to kick of our holiday season. We had a wonderful couple of days filled with lots of eating and lots of playing in our tiny little apartment. They will heading back to Denver tomorrow, but no tears will be shed as we'll be reunited in three weeks. Thus, it's back to the books for me as I count down the final 10 days of this term from hell (not really - but it's been tough nonetheless). We are definitely anticipating a break from this chaos. This weekend was enough of a taste of rest to wet our appetites for more. Here are a few pictures from their stay out here.
Monday, October 19, 2009
R&R...&R
I made it to reading week. I've felt like I've literally been holding my breath and gripping onto life with every ounce of effort I'm capable of exerting so far in this final year of my program. And so this week is about rest, reorganization, and reflection - the 3 r's of reading week for me!
I have learned what it means to rest - to find space and comfort for myself in solitude and in communion. My hope for this week is to find the beautiful balance between time alone and time with those I love most at this stage in my life... and I'm off to a great start. I am sipping on my favorite coffee blend, listening to a wonderful collection of tunes, collecting my thoughts and giving them life through the movement of my fingers upon this overused keyboard. I am wrapped up in my favorite animal print blanket - one of the first things I bought during our time in Uganda - staring out my favorite window in our apartment. Moses is sitting here with me. We've been through quite a bit together. He has been a part of my journey for 12 years now. He doesn't say much - actually he doesn't say anything at all. Yet, his presence has perhaps been the most consistent aspect of my life as I've journeyed through my early adulthood. It is restful for me to sit here with him right beside me.
Reorganization will come when I begin to feel the need to be productive. It usually consists of cleaning like mad and mapping out the remainder of the term (which means constructing a calendar that outlines what I should be reading and how much of it I should be reading nearly everyday until the end of the term). Organization has always been a way for me to experience some sense of order amidst the chaos of my life -- and God knows I'm in desperate need of some order at this stage of my life as a student, intern, mother, wife and occasional friend (though this area seems to be suffering from the chaos the most).
I have a sense that it is reflection that is most needed this week...and most difficult at the same time. Strange how that is often the case. My brief return to Colorado just over a week ago opened up an awareness of my current state of homelessness that is as equally saddening as it is frightening. It's been over three years since I left the only life I had ever really known in Littleton, Colorado. And I don't think I was prepared for just how much I could change in a relatively short period of time. These last three years have not been normal years - they have been filled with life-altering experiences. From my transition out of my role at WBCC, exposure to the suffering and circumstances of the women and children of Uganda, the six months I spent living with my father (the most time I've ever spent with him consecutively since I was 5 years old), to the revelations discovered about myself and my relationships upon entering into the program at MHGS -- it has been one heck of a roller coaster experience. Much has changed...and much has quite simply only begun to emerge.
Who will I be once I leave this place? What will I do? Who will I be able to connect with? How will I continue to move forward in this process of emerging as a self in order to experience more genuine relationships in all areas of my life? These are the questions swimming around in my head. These are the unknowns that heighten my anxiety. Though my love for those who have been an integral part of my life was felt deeply and perhaps even more intensely than ever before during my brief visit in CO, my rootedness in that community has evidently dissipated.
I feel like this tree that I am staring at just outside my window. It has apparently tried to desperately hold onto the few remaining golden leaves left hanging by a thread. Each time the wind blows, more beautiful glimmering leaves fall to the ground. The leaves that have filled up the life of this tree in the past are coming to their end. But I am afraid of the winter that will certainly approach quickly after all of the leaves have been stripped. But I know that for there to be new life, there must be a certain kind of death. I just hope that I can hold onto the hope of resurrection as the chill of the winter sets in deep within my bones.
I have learned what it means to rest - to find space and comfort for myself in solitude and in communion. My hope for this week is to find the beautiful balance between time alone and time with those I love most at this stage in my life... and I'm off to a great start. I am sipping on my favorite coffee blend, listening to a wonderful collection of tunes, collecting my thoughts and giving them life through the movement of my fingers upon this overused keyboard. I am wrapped up in my favorite animal print blanket - one of the first things I bought during our time in Uganda - staring out my favorite window in our apartment. Moses is sitting here with me. We've been through quite a bit together. He has been a part of my journey for 12 years now. He doesn't say much - actually he doesn't say anything at all. Yet, his presence has perhaps been the most consistent aspect of my life as I've journeyed through my early adulthood. It is restful for me to sit here with him right beside me.
Reorganization will come when I begin to feel the need to be productive. It usually consists of cleaning like mad and mapping out the remainder of the term (which means constructing a calendar that outlines what I should be reading and how much of it I should be reading nearly everyday until the end of the term). Organization has always been a way for me to experience some sense of order amidst the chaos of my life -- and God knows I'm in desperate need of some order at this stage of my life as a student, intern, mother, wife and occasional friend (though this area seems to be suffering from the chaos the most).
I have a sense that it is reflection that is most needed this week...and most difficult at the same time. Strange how that is often the case. My brief return to Colorado just over a week ago opened up an awareness of my current state of homelessness that is as equally saddening as it is frightening. It's been over three years since I left the only life I had ever really known in Littleton, Colorado. And I don't think I was prepared for just how much I could change in a relatively short period of time. These last three years have not been normal years - they have been filled with life-altering experiences. From my transition out of my role at WBCC, exposure to the suffering and circumstances of the women and children of Uganda, the six months I spent living with my father (the most time I've ever spent with him consecutively since I was 5 years old), to the revelations discovered about myself and my relationships upon entering into the program at MHGS -- it has been one heck of a roller coaster experience. Much has changed...and much has quite simply only begun to emerge.
Who will I be once I leave this place? What will I do? Who will I be able to connect with? How will I continue to move forward in this process of emerging as a self in order to experience more genuine relationships in all areas of my life? These are the questions swimming around in my head. These are the unknowns that heighten my anxiety. Though my love for those who have been an integral part of my life was felt deeply and perhaps even more intensely than ever before during my brief visit in CO, my rootedness in that community has evidently dissipated.
I feel like this tree that I am staring at just outside my window. It has apparently tried to desperately hold onto the few remaining golden leaves left hanging by a thread. Each time the wind blows, more beautiful glimmering leaves fall to the ground. The leaves that have filled up the life of this tree in the past are coming to their end. But I am afraid of the winter that will certainly approach quickly after all of the leaves have been stripped. But I know that for there to be new life, there must be a certain kind of death. I just hope that I can hold onto the hope of resurrection as the chill of the winter sets in deep within my bones.
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