Falling Off the Treadmill

Sometimes it's tough trying to live the "glo-burban life" I am trying to live.  It turns out that many of the blessings of living in the suburbs (being only 5 minutes away from Target, a half dozen grocery stores, a handful of gyms to choose from, and a myriad of places to eat out) have a flip-side "curse" to them as well.  See, there are a lot of opportunities to do a lot of wonderful things, and each one is just within reach.  There are ballet and karate classes, sports of every kind, art institutes that offer art, music, and drama courses, birthday parties at Chuck-E-Cheese, BodyZone and the local skating rink, Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts... and all of this is just for the kids!  For the middle-class couple, there are career ladders to climb up, exercise classes to "tune-up," at least two cars to fix up, and social circles to keep up, not to mention all those meetings for work, school, and church.  It's my observation that for the average suburban family, life is just one non-stop treadmill ride with flashing signs that scream, "OPPORTUNITY HERE!!!" at every glance.  And you know what happens when you try slowing your pace on a treadmill... you end up in a heap on the floor.

I say it's tough living the "glo-burban life" because creating a meaningful existence in this rat-race culture means running at a much slower pace.  Sometimes it even means sitting down in the road for awhile.  And when you sit down while others are running frantically around you, you tend to wonder if you are lazy... or maybe crazy.  The last year or so, I have been sitting down a lot more often.  I've looked around at the over-scheduled moms and dads and kids; I've overheard the impatient tones (too many times in my own voice) that more-or-less mean the same thing: "I don't have time for you or what you are feeling or wanting to talk about; we're going to be late!"  I've asked myself, where is everyone going anyway?

So why have I been practicing "sitting out" more often?  Well, for starters, I want to know where I am headed.  I thought I was headed to working a full-time job as a teacher once my children were in school.  Then I began subbing two years ago and realized I felt completely anxious in the shoes of a teacher and drained by this type of work.  I imagined how life would have to change if I dedicated myself to teaching, and I came to the conclusion that I am not cut out for the life of a teacher (no matter how much I admire them with all my heart!).  I am also not willing to make certain sacrifices I would no doubt have to make on my time with my family and friends, with books, with quiet and solitude, with making meals from scratch.  Re-evaluating the course ahead calls for large doses of reflection, awareness, and patience.  That's why on random days when I am not subbing or volunteering somewhere, I might be found on a long walk or at the Jesuit Center's library or with my pen in my journal.  It takes time to discern the way ahead, and like we've said before, tread mills don't slow down.

I also sit out more often because I have learned the wisdom that the journey is more important than the end point.  Few people meet their "endpoints" (or accomplish their dreams in life), and those who do often feel disappointed when they finally get there.  The view wasn't as great as they had anticipated, and when they look back down the mountain, they realize they passed a lot of roses that needed smelling--many they even crushed in their effort of climbing.  I don't want to walk by any roses without stooping to drink in their unique fragrance.

I don't want to rush by any child of God who needs a smile (the kind where your eyes crease), whether that be my own two little ones or the sweet, quiet man who returns my grocery cart at Giant.  I don't want to pass by the trees when they have something to teach me or miss out on the beauty of a sunset or full moon because I have "somewhere to go."  I don't want to be so busy in "my important pursuits" that I can't hear the heartache in my friend's voice or see the stress on my husband's brow or feel the cuddle of my child who is growing up too fast.  I still want to be able to hear that still small Voice within me, the Voice which is usually only heard when my mind and body are stilled.

So what has this slowing down taught me so far?  I'm learning a lot of things actually.....

I've learned that my kids don't have to try EVERYthing out there to be happy.  "One thing at a time" has been working out pretty well.  We all are a lot happier when we spend a few nights a week at home, digesting our food slowly, talking about our days, perhaps reading, playing a game, or just doing our own thing side-by-side.

Sleep is a gift... and it is necessary to treasure it!  Burning the candle on both ends eventually gives me a headache, compromises my immune system, and always leaves me irritable.

Homemade bread is oh-so-delicious!!!  The process of kneading and waiting and rising binds me somehow to women around the world who spend long hours preparing food for their families.

Being is just as important as doing, maybe even more.

Taking care of the body is a sacred act.  Practicing yoga, walking, eating real food, and resting keeps me healthy and limber and allows me to give of myself more effectively.

Deep friendships need nourishing and are not to be taken for granted.  Coffee with a friend fills my soul and strengthens my steps for the journey.

Quantity of time does not equal quality of time.  I can spend many hours "living" under the same roof with my family members, but if those hours aren't infused with love and deep listening and patience and FUN, well then... they don't count.

God does not impose God's self.  Yet God's Spirit is always present.  My spirit tends to be dry, cracked, and infertile unless warmed and watered by the Spirit's presence.  It's really tough to be aware and open of this Presence when I am on a treadmill.

Will you join me in sitting out the rat-race of life every now and then?