In my past life, rushing was everything.
It's what I did.
Hurry to get up and get dressed.
Hurry to get the kids out of the house and myself to work.
Hurry throughout the day.
Multi-tasking...answering phones while checking in patients while checking the mail while writing letters while checking patients back out... every single day was the same.
I worked a 10 hour day and rushed my way through it.
Reverse that later in the day...
Hurry to get the kids home.
Hurry to get dinner started.
Hurry to get everyone in bed.
Just to start it all over again the next morning.
Talk about burn out.
I hurried when I grocery shopped or cleaned the house.
I even drove fast. Rushing from one place to the next.
Is it any wonder at all that I have used up every ounce of my soul??
Is it any wonder that it has taken me the better part of 5 years to heal from that fast paced toxic life and learn to relax inside my own skin ?
This past Sunday found me hurrying again.
And I didn't like it.
Upon awakening, I knew I had a busy day.
I needed to clean the house and do laundry.
I needed to get to the store and pick up something for dinner, and grocery shop for the week.
We are planning on carving pumpkins after Sunday night dinner with the family.
And the first thing I thought about giving up was going to church.
"No time", I told myself. "Too much to do."
After I thought about it for a minute I realized what a stupid idea that was.
For me, Church is one of the few places I go where I can sit still and relax.
I love the praise and worship music.
I love listening to Pastor Eric's sermons.
Church fills me with a sense of peace...why in the world would I choose to skip it?
So I decided that it would be a good idea to grocery shop before church.
Uh...not so good of an idea...talk about rushing...
By the time I got to the checkout it felt like I had drunk 4 cups of coffee.
I'm the 4th person waiting in the line behind other shoppers with overly full carts.
I glance at the clock behind the customer service counter and I see that church starts in 10 minutes.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I try to slow down my breathing. I can feel myself chuffing away like I've just finished a race.
My hands were shaking, I'm sweating like no other. What the hell?
I'm either having a heart attack or maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Enter in the cashier that is opening up a new check out line.
"Ma'am?" she says to me..."I'll take you over here in my line."
I start willy nilly tossing everything onto the belt. I keep dropping things.
I tell myself to slow down. Just. slow. down. and I can't.
It feels as if I'm gonna just pitch right over...
Like centrifugal force is driving me... I'm lurching for heavensake!
There is nothing wrong with me. Physically anyway.
It's just the hurry I'm in.
I had forgotten what's it's like to always be in a hurry.
Rushing and yelling and scowling and forcing square pegs into round holes.
And to think that I used to live my life like that.
I don't want that anymore.
I can't do that anymore.
My life is better at a slower pace.
I live better, I am better at a slower pace.
I made it to church on time with a trunk full of groceries.
I sat back and listened to the Pastor and his sermon.
I listened to the praise and worship music.
I let myself feel the love and peace and forgiveness of Jesus.
I managed to clean the house AND mop the floors and do 4 loads of laundry
And make a family dinner AND carve pumpkins
And I managed it all without skipping church.
Next time I find myself wanting to do it all
I want to do it without the anxiety and hurry.
And what doesn't get done, doesn't get done.
Except for church. That gets done.