And the World Didn't End

Today is the first day in weeks and I mean weeks--okay probably in two months--that I got out of bed before 5 am.  (Except for the night before graduation when I just didn't sleep at all.) I ALWAYS get up between 4 and 5.  I love the mornings.  I love how much I can get done before the rest of the family gets up.  I love the quiet and the stillness.  But I just couldn't get my body up before 6:30 and sometimes even closer to 7.  To be perfectly honest even getting up at the time was hard; my body hurt and felt fatigued all day.  Eve sleeping in, I would often take a quick nap in the afternoon.

A couple of weeks ago I sat in my therapist's office sobbing and telling her that I was scared to death I had clinical depression (having in master's in psychology combined with being a tad dramatic is not always a great combination).  I told her that I was crying easily, and I was so fatigued sometimes I felt like I couldn't move.  And then I confessed my biggest sin--I was sleeping in.  To her credit, she didn't burst out laughing; she didn't even crack a smile.  Instead she said, "Honey, you are burning the candle at both ends AND you have many things you are grieving over and dealing with at this time.  Of course you're tired and crying more." (Yes I really do pay her good money to state the obvious--it is totally worth it!)  Here's what I learned....

I didn't get three loads of laundry washed, dried and folded every morning and the world didn't end.  In fact, the children started wearing clothes they forgot they had because they had to go below the first level of clothes in their drawers.  I also learned they could actually fold clothes--getting it from the place they folded it up to the bedrooms has proven to be a bit more of a challenge, but we're working on it.

I didn't always have the candle lit so that the scent was throughout the house--sometimes it was just beginning to waft up the stairs, and the world didn't end.

I didn't exercise every single morning--while I gained 5 pounds, the world didn't end.

I didn't write at least one letter every day--I've missed that and have a list of people in my head I want to write--but the world didn't end.

I didn't have my 30 minutes of quiet time every morning--and the world didn't end.

While the house has stayed cleaned, it hasn't stayed as neat as I'd like it.  Guess what, the world didn't end.

 I still haven't put all the decorations away from the graduation party a week and a half ago.  Good thing it's been nice and we could eat outside instead of on the dining room table!




Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 says:

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

² a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
³ a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
⁴ a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
⁵ a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
⁶ a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
⁷ a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
⁸ a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.  (NRSV)

I have been in a different season.  Different seasons have different needs.  Different seasons require different things of us--body, mind, and soul.  Seasons are not judgments; they are not measuring sticks of success and failure.  They just are.  There are different seasons in our lives--times we have to care for ourselves and others in ways we are not used to or even comfortable doing; and the world won't end.