Clinging

It's 1:20 p.m. and I woke up 20 minutes ago. Haven't done that since high school.

It's really not so much out of laziness as so much this virus I've been fighting off since yesterday. I think it's a virus. I don't know, something with a fever. Which I woke up with again.

It was still dark in our apartment at 1, given the haziness of this day and that all of the lights were off. You know when you wake up and you're in this fog of "where do I even start with my day?"

That's about where I was. And even though I don't feel well I felt like I should be doing something, because doing nothing for 30 some-odd hours is probably what induced this fog. That, or the yuck illness itself. I'm unsure. The point is that I looked immediately to my computer when I woke up and realized then how much I've missed blogging.

Rather, how much I've missed having something to say.

And I say I just now realized it this morning, but the truth is that I've missed it for a week now. I couldn't this time last week because I had a really big test on monday and then a really big presentation on tuesday and quizzes in every other class interspersed in those two days. And then I got through those assignments as best I could and got so pumped for free time. Wrong.

Every single night has gone so much differently than how I've planned. Mostly involving me not getting the work I need to do done. Not just school work. But this work. The work I need to put into planning out Axis. The work I need to put into writing/calling friends. I don't really feel the lack of having done these things during the day. Matter of a fact, the days have been delightful. I've gone to a U.S.-Afghan relations seminar, played flag football, had dinner at Petersos, taken delightful naps at La Petit Maison Blanche (twice!), bought new tentis shoes and a raincoat, had two study dates go "wrong" and rather become sweet friend time with Big D, gone kickboxing, watched tv with fun company, and had really good phone calls home to catch up with my family. So now you know that I don't dislike my life.

Until I get in bed at 2 a.m., sometimes for no one else's fault but my own, and realize that I've done nothing to foster my own spiritual growth. I don't like how that sounds, but it's really the only way to put it. Which is why its been hard to have multiple conversations about faith this week, given that I've not been active with mine. Oh, I've been active. And I have faith in Jesus Christ. I know my tendency to feel so stuck when, in all of my activity, I don't stop to seek God out. Then I feel so guilty that I haven't because I know that He actively seeks me. Sought me.

It's hard to feel that in the rush. And the more I don't give God the time of day, the more stubborn I get. It's pride that says, "why would He want me now?" Now that I've blown Him off for a week.

This morning as I stood up from the bed, I grabbed my computer and walked as if on auto pilot out to my balcony (I then proceeded to go back in to grab a diet coke, but that doesn't sound as spiritual and purposeful ;) especially given that my reason for doing so was to wash out this nasty morning breath. What's that you say? Brush your teeth? You are so unoriginal!). So here I sit, every now and then stopping to feel the wind and revel in the falling of the leaves. It's almost like a cove back here and the drifting leaves are almost magical. Almost as if the Creator of this small cove was trying to say "Sadie, I do want you now."

Did He want me to take the time Wednesday night or Thursday? Probably. And honestly, I did too. I wish I had great excuses as to why I didn't. But mostly as I sit in this calm, in the midst of the chaotic rush of leaves, I can only be glad I'm here now. I cling to that God is around, too. Not just in this awesome spectacle of nature, but for me.

I feel like I've led myself to believe that being busy is at odds with knowing Christ. And, to an extent, I see where I'm coming from there. Being too busy to get to know Him is not cool. You hear words of advice to stop and smell the roses or to go sit still in God's creation. I get this view of nature as so still and calm and in my moments of chaos I aspire to that image.

But my current view of nature, from this balcony, is bustling. Crackling. Whistling. It is so not still. It's moving. The season is changing. If this activity was not happening, the trees and leaves would be in this season forever. And not only is that not physically possible, it's just not preferable.

Could it be the same for us? Sometimes I feel jolted by the movement around me. I cling to my branch and wish the winds would pass me by. And as much as this season becomes increasingly frustrating, as my grip on it is loosened and loosened, I hold on as tightly as I know how because it is what I know. I stay put in the name of being still. "Be still and know that I am God" He says. But what if knowing He is God means letting go? I guess I assume most times that God is the tree, safe and still. That when I feel tossed by my schedule, I've lost hold of my tree, my God. Is it so impossible for God to be in the chaos, too? Is it too far-fetched to believe that He's in the middle of that, too? Does being busy have to be at odds with growing closer to God? Only when I make it that way. Otherwise, if I was really paying attention, I might see that it's God, smack in the middle of the bustling winds, carrying me safely to the ground. Kicking off a new season. If such activity was not happening, I'd be in this season forever. And not only is that not spiritually possible, it's not preferable.

So maybe in the midst of my crazy week, I should stop feeling so defeated by the fact that I'm not meeting with God in the ways I normally do, the places I expect Him to be, and decide, instead, to meet Him where I am, in whatever way He so desires, "normal" to me or not. Of course, it still requires me making time for Him. But perhaps I should cling less to the safe and known and more to the promise that He's carrying me through the new and unanticipated. To a new and beautiful season.

I got to thinking of the flaws in this impromptu analogy. The major one being that, sure they're pretty and all, but these leaves are dead. They aren't going on to a new season, they're done for. But isn't it God who is best at bringing beauty from death. Aren't Christians called to put themselves to death daily? Yes, sadly, if left to my own mechanisms, we'd all look like a bunch of decaying leaves in a parking lot. But it is God who's bringing in the new season, He's the one actively finding a place for us in His picture. Not the other way around. So maybe the dead leaves thing is not so much a flaw in the analogy, after all.

Maybe it's not a busy schedule but a busy mind that's plaguing me lately. Either way, I'm clinging to the knowledge that God has, can and will bring beauty from the chaos.

Let me tell you something that is not beautiful right now. My hair. And my breath. So I'm off to take care of that. And probably to take a naproxen.