I’m still here. Learning to separate living from doing.

I’m still here. I said this to myself while looking in the mirror at my undone hair and tired eyes. I’m still here – as if I needed to convince myself. Ok, I probably did need some convincing. I don’t have the answers but what I am certain of is that I have the strong, ever present desire to stay within the place that God needs me to be in at this moment, for this season. So here’s the truth about that…I don’t always want to do it and I certainly don’t always like it. I get tired of the doing. The catch twenty two is that just keep doing! I know many have been there and maybe, like me, you’re currently there. The guilt of knowing the right and healthy thing to do is take time for yourself can feel catastrophic.

I’m a doer. I am reliable. I am balanced and thoughtful in my understanding and in navigating situations. Those are good qualities to have but knowing where to draw the line is important. Can I admit my first inclination is NOT to draw the line. It is in fact, to find another thing to DO. In my mind, when I am still, I am not enough. In the words of a friend of mine, the Holy Spirit is still massaging that out of me. We all have something that takes a constant renewing of our minds to work out. Mine is doing does not determine my worth. I am still worthy and valuable without the busyness of always doing something.

I’ve spent the last few months physically being present and doing some very hard things for my family. Caring for my dad most days and weeks 24/7. Earlier this month he passed away and everything, all the doing came to a seemingly sudden halt. We all knew his time here on earth was nearing an end but nothing prepares you for coming out of giving the type of care that he needed. Let me also say that nothing prepares you for going into it either.

My family had previously walked a similar path with our mom just four years prior, and while we had some experience in caring for a parent through illness and death, there is just no amount of experience that prepares you to do it again. Being on the other side of caring for a dying parent again seems surreal. Like time is just frozen. What I know today is that it’s not time that’s frozen, it’s the doing that froze. Just like that.

Separating the living from the doing.

When talking to a friend I made the comment that I needed to figure out what to do next. I needed to figure out how to live, do something for myself, and proceeded to list things that would eventually land on a checklist for me. The best part about having friends that you have real relationship with is that they will definitely shake you up when you need shaking. In this moment, my friend pointed out to me that while everything I said was great, it was actually all fruit. It’s fine to desire the fruit and it’s fine to make plans that can help you accomplish those things. What’s more important though is the pause to receive the instruction you need to get there. And, for someone like me – all of us doers out there – the pause is a space of healing and rest.

Did you hear that?

I shed actual tears when my friend said to me, you don’t have to immediately move to the next thing to keep you busy. After all, that’s the truth about what most of the doing is. Just a way to keep me busy enough to be strong enough to DO the next thing. Nothing in my doing creates a more worthy version of me. Living includes the pause, the vertical connection and hearing from the Holy Spirit, the stillness and knowing that God takes me from one moment to the next. The desire to busy myself with doing removes me from living. Contrary to what most believe, a life that overflows with responsibilities does not make me a more successful or accomplished person.

The grief walk.

In the last four years I’ve basically lived in grief! I’ve learned a lot about walking in it and making my way through it and my own human nature still remains. I still push myself to get through it quickly and move on to the next thing. Today I’m saying not this time. Today, I choose to take the walk, sit quietly and hear from the one who has created my path. No one likes to grieve and I’m no different, but hear me when I say the walk is necessary. I don’t need to decide when I’m going to accomplish the next thing on my to do list. I need to be in touch with God who’s opening the doors for me and uncovering who I need to be, what I need to be healed of and all the things I need to recognize before the fruit shows up.

Pause with me.

Without this pause, I’m just spending my time being busy and wondering why I keep going from big grief task to big grief task. There’s accomplishment in it all if you position yourself to hear the affirmations straight from God. The person I am is still here. For now, it’s time to allow here room for refreshing in the spirit. Walking through grief doesn’t look like any one thing. Just know there is peace to be found in the stillness.

Read more about how to discover or rediscover you in one of my previous blog posts here.