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Keeping Up with the Christians

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…

Just do it

Push harder.  Pull harder.  Work harder.  Try harder.

And we wonder why we are worn out.

Maybe we are not so far off from the reality TV show we despise, but secretly watch.

Oh, that’s right, it’s only me who happens to land and linger on the make-believe episodes pretending itself as reality.

For real, I wonder, have I sold my soul to the Enemy of keeping up?  With whom?  Why?  My mind boggles.

No rest because there is another video study to view.

No relaxation because I’m supposed to be at another church function.

No Sabbath because if the stores don’t shut down, why should I?  

Busy, busy, busy, burden, burden, burden–

Why do I try so hard?  Better yet, what would happen if I didn’t?

Have I lost the ability to just be because I’ve been so focused on being a busy bee?

My thoughts hang in the air unfiltered–

I find I am afraid.  I am not sure who I am outside of what I do.  

What am I supposed to do with all this free time here in Dallas for 3 weeks – alone on idle – without transportation – with nothing to do but write.

I feel trepidation take over, causing me to shift focus.  So, I start another pile of laundry – clean the counter again – refold the towels – iron – work out —

Eventually avoidance runs out of things to do.  I need to go inward.  Under the first layer which is clean and wrinkle-free (well, my clothing at least :))

I don’t want time to wonder.

I want to wander aimlessly in good works.  Because if I do so, then I don’t have to discover the real me.

The one who may be in the middle of her own identity crisis.

Still, if I remain still, I know in the stillness of my soul I will find that me that has been hiding out underneath the layers of artificial sanity – the real me.

The one I was created to be.

May I encourage you to use the stillness as a starting point, and not an avoiding point?

Interestingly, Yahweh, in its purest form, means, “To Be”.

Hmmm, now that is something to sit and ponder.

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