A few weeks ago, I sat in a Mexican restaurant eating lunch with a younger married couple. We chatted about our backgrounds, experiences with school, and then they asked something a little more unexpected. “What do you do for fun?”
Friends, I froze.
Interestingly, I think my life is a lot of fun, especially for how full it is. I do many things every day that bring me deep joy and I’ve learned to delight in small details. Monday, when I drove to work the leaves dancing in circles across the road, brought to life by the wind off the vehicles, fed my soul. I sang along with some of my favorite Hamilton songs while I was driving. I got home from work that day, slipped into different shoes, and took the trail to the back door of the school to get my two elementary students. I snuggled my boys. I looked in their eyes and marveled over their existence. I talked to my husband while we cooked dinner. Before I feel asleep that night, I watched the season finale to The Rings of Power, then went upstairs and read a Mary Oliver poem once I was cozy in bed.
Right now, I don’t have a lot of things separate from my family or work that most people would consider fun.1 But I find deep joy in my life and have quite a bit of fun. Later that week, I chatted on Voxer with a friend and I mentioned that I had established restorative rhythms in my days and weeks and did not feel like I was missing out for not having the “fun” that I had earlier in life. This life is better. I’d choose it again and again.2 She pounced on my “restorative rhythms” phrase.
I started learning to do this in early motherhood because I didn’t want to drown there. It wasn’t my best season for a variety of reasons but I learned to cultivate joy and gratitude. I learned that often what I could change was myself and not where I was or what life looked like. I have prayed over and over in difficult circumstances that God would use those places to make me someone that I wouldn’t be otherwise.
This week, I listened to this podcast with Sharon Hodde Miller. While discussing her newest book, Sharon talked about agency. In the podcast she was directing her conversation toward the difference between using our own agency and seeking control over things that aren’t ours to control, particularly for church leaders. But I kept thinking about how often we give up our agency because we don’t have control. Sometimes we only see how many things are beyond our power and we completely breeze over the things we could be responsible for.
When I had littles, I couldn’t control tantrums or poor sleep habits (though I could exert influence). However, I could decide how I started my day or the music I played or what I did during nap time. Even now, I can’t control what mood my kids are going to be in when I pick them up from school or how much time it’s going to take me to memorize my Hebrew. I can decide how I respond to my kids and my attitude toward my Hebrew work. Often the parts we have agency over are small. Sometimes we disdain them and sometimes we simply overlook them.
Obviously, much of the work that the Spirit of God does in transforming us is mysterious. We aren’t deciding to be someone else and showing up as a different person tomorrow. But God does invite us to participate. In the Bible, we are shown ways to cooperate with the work of the Spirit. We do have agency; God designed it that way. And we can take responsibility for our lives. We are supposed to do exactly that.
I don’t know what this looks like for you. Maybe you already do this well. Maybe you cannot relate to my stories of life because your life is so different from mine. Right now I’m praying that the Spirit reveals one place in your life where you have agency but you have overlooked it because you are seeking control. You really do have power over so many pieces of your life. Use it well.
I am the person who was reading Anna Karenina on the beach so I have my own definitions of fun apparently.
Though I wouldn’t mind a few more dinners out with Justin.
I'm intrigued by your restorative rhythms. The quarter it's really hit me that I need rest or—like you said about motherhood—I will drown in seminary. It will crowd out things I'm not willing to allow it to crowd out of my life. Restorative rhythms seem like a structured way to get the rest I need. I'd love to hear more about this in a future post if you feel inclined.
I’ve been wrestling a lot with grief. It always seems to be someone else’s grief, but I feel it because of my proximity to it... I often feel like I don’t have a right to that grief because it’s not mine, and then shame myself internally for having grief responses. Our sermon yesterday was delivered by my husband who has struggled with suicidal ideation. His counselor from that season pointed him to Philippians 4:8 and showed him the agency he had over his thoughts. He may think them, but he doesn’t have to welcome them in. He doesn’t have to tidy up the rooms of his mind so that they can stay. He can interrogate his thoughts and ask them to leave. It was deeply moving to see our church family wrap arms around one another in prayer for one another’s minds. And it gave me the courage to claim agency over my grief. I can’t control my grief. I’m allowed to grieve with those who are grieving. And I’m allowed to interrogate my thoughts. And I don’t have to invite them to stay. Instead, I can hide myself in a Savior who sees every tear shed for myself or someone else, and know He has compassion and weeps with me.
I’m currently trying to write a song based on this conversation I’m having with the Lord right now. And I’m sorry for this long comment, but it struck such a chord in my heart especially after yesterday’s message ❤️
Rivers to Eden
I see that you’re dying,
Surrounded by thorns
This fight for living, leaving you so worn
The soil where you’re planted,
leaves no room for life
You’re holding back the darkness
with all your might
Chorus
I see you, sweet daughter of mine
And I hear your cries in the night
I know…. you’re not lost in this fight
The pressure is building
Deep underground
Like weeds, now choking
All the life you’ve found
But the burdens you carry
Like stones around your heart
Are bringing out the diamonds
I saw from the start
Bridge
I see your tears
I save every one
They will become
Rivers to Eden