REST-oration

Let this season be for me

a time of gathering together the pieces

into which busyness has broken me.

I discovered this piece of poetry halfway through what I have named my "post-thesis" recovery. Three months ago, I submitted my 18,000-word thesis as a requirement of my Master of Arts in Theology & Culture. It was hard, hard work. I was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted, so I spent a few days taking naps, watching shows, and playing with my kids — I even went to a spa for a massage. This type of rest was helpful, but I soon realized I was actually craving rest-oration.

Restoration is the act of returning something to its original state. After many months of external demands, deadlines, and pressure, I had been stretched and expanded to someone partially unrecognizable to me. Some of the expansion has been good growth: pushing through self-doubt, developing my writing voice, and enriching my theology, but my heart, body, soul, and mind felt a little all over the place. Cue the Ted Loder poem.

The only other major recovery I have undergone was after the births of my babies. Remembering those postpartum times, I left a prescriptive note on my mirror: "Three Months: Love, Laughter, Compassion, Healing, Recovery." A midwife-minded friend reminded me that postpartum is for healing: tucking in, moving gently, eating well and learning to listen to your body again. It is not a time to judge, evaluate, put pressure or high expectations on oneself. (She also reminded me that it is not a good time to get a new haircut—which I did and regretted all summer!) She is wise.

This recovery season has made me think differently about rest, and I've wondered if what we need after a significant challenge (or change, or success, or loss) is not only rest, but rest-oration— a coming back to ourselves; a rediscovery of who we now are. Life and Love invite us to welcome change, challenge, and growth as part of this restorative work, but not all seasons are for pushing. These days I am leaning into Ted Loder’s simple request…

Most of all, Lord,

let me live easily and grace-fully for a spell,

so that I may see other souls deeply,

share in a silence unhurried,

listen to the sound of sunlight and shadows,

explore barefoot the land of forgotten dreams and shy hopes,

and find the right words to tell another who I am.

Ted Loder. "Let me Live Grace-fully," Guerillas of Grace: Prayers for the Battle (Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 1981)