I'm sitting down to write it even though I don't feel like it. I'm sitting down to write it because, if it was true this morning, it is still true 15 hours later.
If you're reading "rough day" between the lines, your powers of deduction are in tact.
Yes, it was a rough day. The waiting period that I have been in these last few weeks just started over! I know, that's not really possible. But it certainly feels like it today. Just when I thought this whole death ordeal would get easier, I quickly learned I was wrong. And it sucks.
"Hello? Square One? I told you never to call me here!!"
So, I was going to write a post about chilling out. I was actually going to write about patience, but chilling out is patience of the everyday variety.
If you spend more than a few hours (depending on circumstances, of course) with me, or in my home, you will most likely hear me say, "Chill out/calm down/deep breaths." And when I become a mother, I would almost bet money that I will say this to my child one day: "You'll never find it/fix it/get your head out of your shirt if you don't calm down first." (I heard this in the clinic one day and immediately stored it away in my noggin for my future kids.)
Chilling out is learning to turn down the screaming voices (the real ones and the ones in your head) and listen to the still small voice that calms and teaches, "If you bomb that test (accidentally of course), but don't cheat to make a better grade, does it really matter? And if it does matter, we might need to talk about that."
When I'm studying my tail off, drowning in homework, cuddling with/loving on/playing with my children Sadie Jane or Sophie Grace, missing Papa more than words could ever adequately convey or even just when I'm cleaning my house, I need to chill out and finish what I started before handling anything else. I need to finish feeling ashamed, bitter, hurt, confused, sad, pissed off, angry, before I even try to lead the life I think God has planned for me.
Learning to chill is simply learning to differentiate between an emergency and a challenge (and then giving both to God). My life could easily have me running to and fro, worrying about everything and never finishing anything all day long.
Nothing looks workable, feasible, or even survivable when tension and stress are constantly ruling. Every frantic thought and effort is tiring and time consuming. And I'm beyond the point of exhaustion. I'm past the point of "running on fumes". My tank is empty.
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