Our apartment looks out on an office building and a hotel that is currently under construction. We wake up every morning to the sounds of building, the sounds of productivity. It starts at exactly 6 am. Then, while I drink my coffee and journal, I watch the car fill up the parking lot in phases as men and women walk through the doors of their daytime world carrying mini coolers and brown paper lunch bags.
It is uncomfortable to watch everyone around me be so productive while I sit and rest. I am suffering from some sabbath guilt. Why do I get to rest? What did I do to deserve this? My friends who are single moms, who have toddlers at home, who are the primary breadwinners in their family-they don’t get to have 30 days of rest. Why should I?
All I know today is that I was tired. A serious, deep, carbohydrate-craving kind of tired and I needed a powerful dose of rest. I have access to it, it is my top priority and I am the only one who can take care of me. To not rest, because no one else can, would be like depriving myself of good nutrition just because I know not everyone can afford it.
We live in a exhausted world full of tired people who are aching for a rest they don’t even know exists. I can write about it. I can talk about it. I can recommend it, even prescribe it to others. But if I don’t live what I believe in, if I don’t practice what I know is best for me, rest is just an ideal. Something we all wish we could do, but, oh well.
I have NEVER kept a plant alive. Ever. This little pot of flowers has been with me for over a year. While I was just proud of keeping it alive, not until we moved into this apartment have I seen it bloom like this. I thought it only had a couple of flowers at any give time. Today, it has six full blooms and four more on their way to the sun.
While of of those good citizens of the world diligently re-trace their steps every day and I sit here resting, this little plant thrives. These delicate flowers remind me of what happens to us when we sit still and take in what we need.