So, I've been under the weather for the past week or so. It started with a rapid decline on Monday, followed by a solid day of sleeping on the couch, snuffling into those lotion-infused tissues (which don't seem to forestall a red nose, by the way) and watching back to back episodes of a certain television show starring Nathan Fillion. Each morning thereafter, I've woken up praying and hoping that I'd been feeling at least a little better. Each morning, I've been disappointed. And the irony of it all, I've protested to friends and family, is that I got sick the day after my two-week sabbatical ended. Why couldn't I have gotten sick before now, I wondered aloud.
Wednesday dawned, and I really wasn't any better. Frustrated and fidgety, I did my best to get some editing work done before my body demanded another nap to facilitate the healing process. And then this lovely post arrived in my inbox, written by my friend and fellow spiritual director Monica.
Monica's words were the very psalm I needed for this string of sick days. While Monica was describing the struggle of transitioning from a busy work environment to a more contemplative, hidden way of life, my heart was reminded that my own frustration with being sick was born less out of wanting to get back to work (which I absolutely love) and more out of a need to prove that I'm somehow being productive after a two-week sabbatical. After all, if all I have to "show" for two weeks off is this cold, what good did it do me?
Ah, how quickly I fall prey to that horrid temptation to believe it's all up to me. How often I resist God's tender, slow work, instead of surrendering to His healing work in my life. As Monica wrote,"Fruit happens to you; it’s not something that you make happen directly."
So, instead of trying to fight my way back to healthy, I'm going to curl up on the couch once again. I'll take naps, drink tea, blow my nose a lot and probably watch too much of the Food Network. But I'll be surrendered to the healing work going on in me, and that's what really matters.