Doing Nothing Refreshes and Restores

In 2002, my 20-year marriage ended in divorce. Wanting to be near family, I migrated south, put my belongings in storage and moved in with my sister until I could find work and get on my feet. It wasn’t as easy as I’d envisioned. After months of no interviews, I needed more space—physically, mentally and emotionally—so I loaded up a few things and headed to my parents’ house. It was a risky move, but something had to give.

Adjusting to life in a small town was challenging, for sure. Nothing exciting going on. Not even a fancy restaurant. Just a scattering of small businesses along Main Street, most of them locked down at sundown.

To complicate matters further, Mom and Dad aren’t your “normal” mom and dad. They have no televisions. No computers. No surfing of the web. The radio is Daddy's domain, and once the news is over, the radio is off.

In a nutshell, there just isn't much to do at Mother's house besides sit on the couch, eat lemon pie and watch logs burn in the fireplace.

Initially, I didn't do so well. I felt an inexplicable urgency to be busy. My canoe had capsized in the deep, blue sea, after all, and I needed to be doing something besides breathing and batting my eyelids. I mean, I really, really did!

Didn’t I?

No. Not really. Just the opposite, in fact.

Yes, I was drowning in a storm unlike any other, but for my own self-preservation, I needed to stop struggling, release my fears and be still for a spell. I needed to learn the art of doing nothing, you might say.

And, finally—after much kicking and screaming—I did.

I learned how to take deep, cleansing breaths, long, warm baths and slow, lazy strolls to the mailbox.

I learned how to see magic in the morning sun, dancing through the pines, outside my bedroom window.

I learned how to stare at nothing in the yard swing, while a choir of cicadas sang evening’s shadows away.

(The view from my window at Mother's house.)

I learned how perfectly round the moon is, how exquisitely detailed a sparrow is and how comforting flannel sheets are on cold Texas mornings.

In essence, I learned how to see--and not just look. How to feel--and not just touch. How to listen--and not just hear.

But above all, I learned that doing nothing clears the mind, strengthens the body and restores the spirit like nothing else can. Like a magical antidote for whatever ails you, it opens your heart to God's whisperings and focuses your eyes on things that matter most.

It puts life in perspective, you might say, so that wind-blown souls, capsized in the deep, blue sea, can sit peacefully on the couch, eating lemon pie, watching logs burn in the fireplace. ♦

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.” Psalm 23:2-3

___________

I'm linking to Spiritual Sundays, where Faith Lifts are free.