Rest in Peace
It’s January, my least favorite month of the year.
I hate to be a downer, but my house looks bare and sad now that the Christmas decorations are boxed away in the attic once again. Every Instagram ad tells me I need this diet plan, exercise plan, or magic food delivery service. My work inbox is filled with cute little post-grad entrepreneurs writing that with their bonafide marketing plan, I’ll finally maximize my efficiency and accomplish all of my strategic goals!
I’m not too fond of anything that smacks of self-help. The American Gospel of try harder, be better, adjust your strategy, master this discipline, and finally, your goals will materialize under the harnessing of these new powers. I joke that if any of this were true, wouldn’t we all be skinny and rich by now?
In my deepest heart, my most authentic and darkest self, though, I know I loathe that American Gospel because I believe it. And I feel like a failure.
---------
Eden hardly tolerates a “rest time.” As I’ve mentioned previously, Eden is very afraid of being alone. It’s understandable because she is ten years younger than her teenage sisters and quite accustomed to being around people most of the time.
So, it’s rest time when mom has just had enough and needs an hour to herself (can I get an Amen, Mamas?). Rest time doesn’t have to be nap time. It has to be quiet, non-verbal time on her own. The door can be opened. She can read books or listen to one of her books on tape. She can color or draw.
When Esther and Nell were little, they would have quiet time together. And often, they’d fall asleep together during their quiet time (Mom Wins!), but with Eden, I see a different pattern. First, I hear little pitter-patter footsteps upstairs. Then a tiny voice from the top of the stairs: How much longer?! Maybe 10 minutes go by, and I listen to the voice again: Can I sit on the stairs for my quiet time so I can hear you?
And we all know who wins this time. By the end of the hour, Eden is reading books on the couch with me—third child.
---------
Rest sounds like something we want but don’t easily take. I remember 2020: how many conversations I had with people who said they enjoyed the slower pace of covid lockdown. It seemed to be the one universal silver lining in a world of chaos. Forced rest made space for time with family, time to create (think of all the covid projects that got accomplished, from puzzles to baking to whole garden sheds built), and the forced reprioritizing of your days into something new.
I’m not trying to make it sound dreamy because it wasn’t. But I remember repeatedly hearing that people loved having a slower pace, less to do, and more margin.
I was talking with a friend a few weeks ago, and she was telling me that her son goes from school to basketball, then three days a week leaves basketball to go to club lacrosse, then goes back home for dinner at about 9 o’clock, and then starts his two hours of homework.
We wonder why our kids are more anxious and depressed than they’ve ever been before. There is no space for rest. And we as parents, the gate-keepers of our kids, keep giving and giving and giving more of them away to coaches and teams, music lessons, and priorities that simply won’t matter in the long run.
My family is not holier than thou. We have all kinds of problems with this—we say yes to too much, forgetting that when we say yes to one thing, we are saying no to another. We are saying no to family dinner around the table. We are saying no to creative endeavors and expanding in other growth areas. And we are most definitely saying no to rest.
---------
Over two months ago, Eden came home with a cough. I believe that small children are permanent cesspools of germs, which they happily share with all their classmates to bring home—these gifts that keep on giving.
When I started coughing in late October, I assumed it was the cough from Eden and that I’d kick it soon enough. But I never could quite get it kicked. I managed my way with it through Thanksgiving and our holiday season, but things started to ramp up the week before Christmas or so.
I became fatigued and winded quickly, having to sit and breathe heavily for a minute to catch my breath after just going up the stairs or walking out to the car. The cough got much worse, with deep coughing fits.
We went through our busy Christmas season here with family: an event every evening from December 22-25th. It was celebratory and festive, and fun! And then, on the 26th, my body just broke down. It quit.
If I did not give it rest, it would demand it.
---------
I learned that there was only one way to mitigate the coughing: do absolutely nothing. No laundry, no dishes, no walking from here to there, no making dinner. I could hardly reheat a bowl of soup. Even the slightest activity produced immediate coughing and fatigue.
I started napping twice a day. I’d wake up in the morning and then an hour later lay down for a two-hour nap. It was time for my three-hour afternoon nap two or three hours later. All I could do was sleep.
And needlepoint. I could sit in my bed and needlepoint, listen to some quiet music in the background, and watch my birds’ feathers come alive as I fill them in on my current (and very extensive) needlepoint project.
At first, I hated this forced rest with all my being. I kept to a chair downstairs by the fire until Ty wisely and firmly looked at me one day and said: I want you to go upstairs to the bed. You’ll always be too active if you’re down here in the mix. And he was right. That’s why I planted myself downstairs: to answer the girls’ questions and help with things, but speaking made me sicker.
I needed solitude. I needed quiet. My body refused to be a house divided any longer.
---------
Psalm 127:1-2 says:
If God doesn’t build the house, the builders build only shacks. If God doesn’t guard the city, the night watchman might as well nap. It’s useless to rise early and go to bed late, and work your worried fingers to the bone. Don’t you know he enjoys giving rest to those he loves?
The Message Version
Don’t you know he enjoys giving rest to those he loves?
Like a toddler who is fussy and cranky, a good parent knows it may just be a time of rest that fits the bill. It’s not punishment coming from the top; it’s love.
---------
I’m now about two weeks into a forced period of stillness and rest. Some days, my cough seems to be getting much better, and then I’ll have a day that feels like a step back. One day, I’ll think that my fatigue is improving, and the next day, I’ll sleep for 16 hours. I just don’t know.
We got our next PET CT scan expedited at MD Anderson, so by the time you read this blog, I’ll probably already be on a flight heading to Houston. One of the best things about MD Anderson is the real-time results. I’ll have the scan and then meet with my oncologist just a few hours later to review their conclusions.
There are legitimate options other than cancer. The most likely culprit is a heavy-hitting chemo drug I’ve been on, and the side effects just suddenly overcame me, and my body can no longer tolerate the drug. It could also be a lingering lung infection that I just can’t kick because my Immune System is so poor. It could be residual effects of radiation. And of course, it could be cancer.
But even in the midst of these questions and worries, as I’ve grown into this period of forced rest, I’ve come to receive it as the gift it is and even to love it. I look forward to my naps. I appreciate my needlepoint progress. I like sitting in bed and listening to a podcast or a sermon. I’m not much of a TV person or a big scroller on social media, so I find it’s even nice to have my phone charging on silent and not even be distracted by dings throughout the day.
And of course, none of this would be possible if not for my in-laws, who have faithfully and cheerfully kept Eden and Margie Sparkles, Ty, who has picked kids up and delivered them here and there and been at work in the meantime, our motivated staff at the studio who keeps things going with their usual energy, friends who brought meals, and all the people who are praying over my health and recovery, because I believe that is no small thing.
It truly does take a village, and I’m thankful I have one.
---------
It’s useless to rise early and go to bed late, and work your worried fingers to the bone.
Isn’t that what we’re normally doing, sun-up to sun-down? Worried about work, worried about our kids’ sports, worried about our kids’ friends, worried about our kids’ grades, worried about our finances, savings, paying for college, and retirement? Worried about cancer, coughing, health?
It’s useless. And when I find myself tied down to a forced season of doing nothing, I discover with pleasure that God has provided all of these people, and all those concerns—that I normally work my worried fingers to the bone to try and control—are still taken care of and managed.
Imagine that: it can all happen without me.
---------
So perhaps this January, we can commit to less. Maybe we can rest in peace. We can find peace in our rest. I’m here to warn you that it won’t happen easily, but it is a beauty to behold when you choose to receive it with joy.
Wishing you more cups of tea by the fire, good books, and puzzles on the dining room table.
Happy New Year.
