. . . by a conscious act of your will. . . . you will learn to rest in God both in your inner life and your outer life. . . .Your heart will start listening to a different pulse deep within you, and with joy you’ll begin to match your steps to that lovely, restful beat.
Anne Ortlund
I don’t want to forget that day when he was packing for his bi-yearly adventure; five guys, a week in the boundary waters surrounded by wilderness and solitude. I smiled, sensing his anticipation build as he organized necessities. What if we did life a little more this way? This thought amplified when the following day my mom mentioned an interview she’d seen on a morning show. A systematic method for decluttering featuring a new book titled, “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up”.
There is nothing “magical” about tidying up, but as I began employing the methods I was learning, I gained momentum. I was shocked and embarrassed to see how out of control my consumerism had become. My mind reeled as one by one, I picked up items, realizing most of them I didn’t even like. I felt something deep within me begin to awaken. With intentionality, I began looking at everything I owned differently. My frequent “Target runs” now seemed counterproductive. I began searching, wondering if there was more to this concept I was beginning to formulate in my mind. As I searched, my eyes locked on the screen as I read words from Joshua Becker, stating, “Minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it.” Searching more, I discovered The Minimalists, their documentary, and podcast. I was drawn to this lifestyle; it all made so much sense.
No longer spending time rushing around purchasing things I didn’t need, led me to discover something I had never known before, free time. As I began to reclaim my time, I felt a longing for stillness. I started devoting quiet-time to studying my Bible. I learned that Jesus’ teachings illustrate minimalism, intentional living, stillness and rest. He taught a lifestyle that promotes self-awareness and fully embracing this gift of life. For the first time, Saturdays became a day of rest. Twenty-four hours to stop. Religion had taught me to keep the Sabbath holy by adhering to a set of rules leading to feelings of constraint. My dad was a minister, so as a child, Sabbath was the busiest day of the week for our family. But, my favorite Sabbaths had been those occasional times when my dad didn’t have to preach, we skipped church, and spent the day picnicking and hiking. I realized this was the Sabbath I wanted to celebrate. We started attending church less and spending more time in nature. I wanted to be intentional with my time and how I spent moments with Jesus and my family. I realized church could be anywhere you make it, and I found that for me, it wasn’t sitting in a pew. I began to anticipate the Sabbath and the much-needed rest it provided.
I don’t want to forget a new job that quickly became demanding. Sabbaths became a necessary escape from a life that was again feeling too full. Unknowingly another turning point began, as I emerged from a hike and discovered my foot was enveloped with ticks. In the days that followed the aching in my foot began to spread throughout my body. This sent me spiraling down the path of diagnosis and treatment for Lyme disease, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, and Babesia. I pushed on through rigorous workdays, telling myself I must be imagining the pain and fatigue. I took 3 rounds of antibiotics in an attempt to obliterate the organisms which continued to wreak havoc on my body, without relief. I was forced to acknowledge the changes taking place in my body, but refused to accept this as a new way of life. The only thing medicine had left to offer was 6 weeks of IV antibiotics and narcotics to dull the pain that surged through my joints. As I began the IV antibiotics, I began to see a wellness practitioner specializing in tick-borne illnesses, who gave me hope of restoration. Thus began my introduction to tinctures, oils, supplements, and medications, an attempt to rebalance my broken-down body. My focus shifted to rest. Sabbath now held a new sacredness, a time to sleep, to recuperate from the demands of the week, and prepare for the next. I discovered church could be found in front of the fireplace or basking in the sunshine on the porch. My faith was once again being tested and I was determined to learn and grow throughout this chapter.
“I don’t want a big party” I told Chad one afternoon as my 40th birthday crept closer, “let’s just get away.” I felt nature calling me back. I wasn’t ready to let an adverse experience steal the peace and rejuvenation that it still had to offer. He had left for the solace of the boundary waters one week after my first miscarriage, while I had stayed home consoling myself by filling shopping bags. Since that time he had returned five times, I wondered what kept drawing him back?
I don’t want to forget the warmth of the sun high in a clear blue sky paired with the cool breeze coming off the water. My mind wandered as I gazed across the translucent blue. There was something about the stillness, healing here—no electricity to power electronics and, food and water carried in with intentionality. Here there was no excess, simplicity. As we canoed back toward our campsite, our paddles dipped rhythmically in and out of the water, actions aligned in purpose. I wanted to hold onto this feeling. In the days that followed our 10-day escape, I had a renewed purpose. Our everyday lives, compared to this respite, were still overcrowded. I continued seeing the specialist, and she reiterated she had done everything she could do, the rest was up to me. I couldn’t heal while consistently working more than 60 hours a week; I knew I needed to make a change.
With sleep just out of reach, I laid in bed contemplating my life when again I heard words that made me lookup. You don’t have to do it all, the thought surged through my mind and I wondered, why had I always put so much pressure on myself? Again, my thinking began to shift.
I don’t want to forget. Almost a year has passed since I choose rest and restoration over the demands of the workplace. For the first time in my life, I am in control of my time. Living life open has changed me. I have found freedom in aligning my actions with my values, no longer dictated by other’s expectations. Sanctuary found in living each moment, untethered by the worry of “what’s next”. In a time of so much global uncertainty, I feel peace. Jesus has taught me, He is worth trusting. His words I hear softly in my mind “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?” Mark 8:36. In stripping away the layers and excess I have found Him and in doing so I have found my soul. With things no longer holding undue significance, I am left to live in peaceful anticipation of what is next to come, open to whatever the future brings. “I do not mean that I am already as God wants me to be. I have not yet reached that goal, but I continue trying to reach it and to make it mine… this is one thing I always do. Forgetting the past and straining toward what is ahead…” Philippians 3:12,13
I choose to look forward, but I don’t want to forget. It’s in remembering I acknowledge all that life has taught. It’s in remembering my soul begins, this place where I choose intentionality and recognize the gift that is today.