Excitement Stirs

The last year or so has felt like dating a series of Mr. Not Rights. For the first time in my life, I found myself playing the part of cold-hearted breaker-upper. I also quit my first real job and moved away from the city where are all my dearest friends live and love.

I've had to say ‘no’ a lot in hopes that something better looms around the corner. I've had to learn to trust that God is leading me exactly where I should be going; that even now I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

In the midst of saying no to the old, I've been scared to be excited about the new in fear that I’ll just have to say no to this new love, too. I've been both scared to care and scared that I will never care again.

I've shared more than my fair share of questions and pain and doubt here on this blog. I am truly thankful for your listening ear.

Today, after months of feeling a numbness, a dullness, I can’t explain, I want to tell a new story, a different story. A story of budding joy.

Just a couple of weeks ago I discovered a really cool sounding organization called SERES here in Guatemala. They’re all about empowering local youth and leaders to care for their environment and inspire creative change within their communities. And they just so happened to be looking for someone with skills in non profit communications and a lot time on their hands.

I met the founder and one of the board members earlier this week when I applied for their Marketing and Communications Fellowship, and was thoroughly impressed. They were so welcoming, so passionate, so alive with joy in their work. The kind of joy that beckons you in. That beckoned me in.

I literally skipped back to my house after the interview.

I was offered the position of Fellow (fancy name for an internship) yesterday and all I know is that I haven’t been this excited or engaged in a really long time.

My heart soars at the idea of being a part of a team again and working for a cause I believe in. I’m excited to use my skills and talents and who I am at this exact moment in my life to serve others. I’m shocked to discover that I’m actually looking forward to working (in a real office, more than just a handful of hours a week) again. I’m excited to be a part of an organization here in Guatemala. I’m excited to learn and grow and invest in the work of SERES.

I’m excited to be excited again.

I won’t start until February. And of course I don’t really know what this commitment will entail or how it will all play out, but something feels different about this. I can’t explain why, but I believe I've been given the opportunity to engage in restorative work, work that may provide more healing than my restless resting.

For now, I’m excited to be excited.

God in the Not Yet

Four months ago I moved to Guatemala to intentionally slow down, rest, and recover from a life of busyness and burnout. If I've learned anything from my experience thus far, it's this:

1. Don't give your phone number to creepy guys in salsa clubs no matter how charming they are or how lonely you are.
2. Practicing Spanish is not a good enough reason to justify a telenovela addiction on Netflix.
3. I was made to engage in meaningful work.

I’m far worse at resting than I thought I would be. Even as I ache for rest, I squirm from it. The very thing that is supposed to heal me—to be unproductive, to not measure my worth in blog posts or word counts—is the thing that is driving me crazy. Leaving me bored and confused. Who am I without my words? How do I give myself the time to rest when not working makes me so unhappy? How do I heal when it kills me to sit still?

I know I’m supposed to be learning to lean on God. I’m supposed to be refined by the stripping away of the trappings that distract me from my true identity in Christ. The depth of my trust is supposed to be deepening. My joy should be growing despite my circumstances.

But mostly these last few months I haven’t felt growth or inner peace. Mostly, I've been bored. 

I wish I could say I've spent my abundant free time investing in deep, meaningful relationships, becoming fully fluent in Spanish, or spending hours in awe-filled prayer and adoration of the God who brought me here. I wish I could say I've written countless articles, finished my memoir, and blogged everyday, but I haven’t. The truth is far less glamorous.

I thought by now I’d know how to engage in restorative rest. I thought by now I’d be so good at cultivating peace that a mere glance at me would emanate tranquility like a serenity spa, eucalyptus incense, cucumber infused water, terry cloth robes and all.

But I’m a mess. A ball of anxiety and disappointment.

Instead of resting, I've been running. Running and numbing. Running from responsibility and numbing with distractions—with Netflix, with new love interests, with a never ending supply of excuses for not engaging in the world around me.

Instead of trust, I've cultivated bitterness. I've been angry at God that this adventure abroad hasn't given me all the desires of my heart. Angry at myself for failing to thrive here, for failing to seek Him first.

The almighty God of the universe asked me to give up burnout and for the most part I haven’t done it. I know He’s asking me to say no to the things that numb me. I know He’s asking me to stop running. I know He’s asking me to say no burnout and yes to Him.

But I've dragged my feet, indignant that He would want me to give up these comforts, too.

Just the other day, a light bulb went on: what if I've been looking at it all wrong? What if it’s a gift to say no? To say that this life, this running and numbing, is not what I want? What if saying no isn't just saying no, but a way of saying yes to hope, a way of choosing to believe that He has something better for me?

What if these last four months of floundering have pointed to the truth He wanted me to see all along: that He will restore my joy; He just hasn't done it yet.

I thought admitting that my joy has not yet returned would mean either one of two things:

1.    That God does not make good on His promises

or

2. That I've done something wrong that has caused me to miss out on Him fulfilling His promises

I left out the other option: That God hasn't made good on His promise to restore my joy, YET.

But He will. In His timing. In His way.

Just this last week I've been beginning to see the glimpses of a bigger plan, a better plan than I could have imagined. A plan filled with meaningful work and joy. A plan built in His timing and with His power, despite my heel dragging and unbelief. 

Check back tomorrow to find out why my hope is stirring and my feet are tapping in my seat. 

Unclinging

I feel a shift I can’t explain. Something has changed. Something, or Someone, has started moving. Perhaps He never stopped.

I've shared what burnout feels like. Here is what (I am learning) relinquishing burnout feels like:

A weight lifted. Or lifting.
A bitterness gone.
Palms opening, unclinging.

A release of the cringing, the gut reaction when I get an email, when I think of working, when I think of blogging, working out, writing, anything that I connect with “being productive,” anything that used to bring me joy but eventually became tangled in a mess of obligation.

In the past few weeks, I've used “recovery” as an excuse to do nothing instead of as a chance to rediscover my passions. Yes, I needed a time to let go, to release responsibility, to do nothing and be okay with doing nothing. But it’s time to move forward, to unchain myself from the shackles of burnout.

I crumple the list of words that have taken up occupancy in my mental lexicon:

Lazy
Useless
Selfish
Numb

I release the identity of victim. Of helpless inmate at the burnout, breakdown, palace.

I can be FREE to work.
OPEN to invest in the lives of others.
RELEASED from an identity of death, of grasping tightly to what I have in fear that I will be sucked dry if I give away one drop more.
I am FREE to be FILLED by LOVE. 

I “get to” work and give and try and invest.
Work is a gift. Life is a gift.
I can care.
I do care. 

Love, please show me where to spend my time and energy.
Teach me to sit still in your presence that I may give myself wholeheartedly to the work you have before me.
Teach me to uncling to this identity and cling instead to You. 

Amen.