On Giving Up, Not Giving In
This morning
I stepped out of my comfortable bed and into a hot shower.
Ate my breakfast. Drank some coffee. Fed the cats.
All fine. Then
I went upstairs. And in my brain a switch flicked.
I started thinking about the things I needed to do.
This week. This month. Christmas. Next year. The year after. The thoughts gathered speed, tumbling and spilling beyond my reach.
Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch.
And yet – not enough. After all, I need things to do. Fill the time. Make it – make me – count.
A scheduling problem: that’s all. So fix it.
I started again. In my mind, I made lists. I tidied, sorted, straightened, cleaned. Order, order, order. That’s better.
I sat down. Stood up. Opened the wardrobe. Closed it again.
The day ahead roared and I shrank from its teeth.
Think of the lists.
I stood up.
Got dressed -
and got dressed -
and got dressed.
Each outfit worse than the last.
The problem, I realised, was how I looked. Ugly. Pick the right jumper. That’ll fix you.
Stick to the lists.
…
But instead of hemming me in, they unravelled me.
And the more I tried to take control, the more frenzied I became.
…
Self-sufficiency and busyness; fuss and self-reliance…I’m finished before I’ve even begun.
Instead
Before the lists. Before the wardrobe. Before the planning and the emails and the missed calls.
…
In repentance and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your strength (Isaiah 30:15).Now the day begins.
