In the professional environment, I learned that we should not apologize; instead, we should thank people for their patience when they experienced a delay.
I almost began this post with that sentiment. “Thank you for hanging in there while I took some time off,” when I am actually sorry for not leaning into my values of balance, rhythm, and routine.
This past week had a few “extras” that I was sort of ready for, but not really. We had an extra class with my Clinical Pastoral Education group, which resulted in 12 hours of class time within two days. It was a lot of sitting on the computer.
We had a “high profile” person visit the hospital this week, which resulted in feeling a bit disgusted. It is odd that we were not necessarily concerned about how the individual would receive us, but instead, we were worried about what would be shared about us and how that sharing might draw attention. We were more concerned about appeasing power.
Our kid is also out of school this past week and needed to balance schedules. The last few weeks have had some disruption, and I realized my cup was less full than it used to be.
With all the extras, we got the chickens outside, which meant we built a coop, a run, a new feeder, and a waterer. The other night, as I was feeling the pressure of all the things to do, I sat with the chickens and just allowed myself to be. RBG, one of the more social in the flock, immediately came to hang out with me.
Perspective is everything. This chicken’s greatest concern is food, water, and defending the coop from stinkbugs. She has no idea about bills, doctor appointments, schedules, or self-care. The sun is up; she is out.
I was trying to go to bed early this week and attempted to get all seven of the chickens into the coop. I chased them around, and as I would catch one for the coop, another one would jump out. After a few hectic minutes of hilarity, I gave up. In Montana, the sun stays out late in the summer.
I went inside and made a little snack. I sat on the couch, mindlessly scrolled on social media, and then watched a movie. An hour later, I saw that it was darker out and went to rally the chicks. A big sigh, knowing I’d need to chase them around. I donned my Crocs and set out to chase the chickens.
As I came out to the coop, I greeted them as I always do, and, to my surprise, they were all in the coop; a few of them were already asleep. I never thought our chickens would teach me about the spiritual life, but here we are. As I let go of my need to control, my concerns will fall into their natural order.
Chickens don’t see well at night. They were drawn to the light in the coop as a sign of safety and warmth. While I was trying to force rhythms of rest, the chickens weren’t ready. When I gave up control, they finally rested.
To be sure, there are things we need to fight for. The injustices we and others face require our fight, our energy, our gusto.
But how can we fight that fight when we are too tired from trying to control the uncontrollable?
May we begin to see rest as an act of resistance.
Chickens…..thanks for the visualization.
The part I love most is that when the chickens just weren’t cooperating you didn’t stay out there but you paused, went inside made a snack and relaxed with a movie. 🍿 I probably would’ve still been out there trying to wrestle them in until dark then be frustrated and wiped out..I wonder how many times the Lord watches us run around trying to push through circumstances that if we just surrendered to rest he could work out for us?