GOLDEN HOUR WALK

I walked back on the farm today, first time in longer than I can remember. As I cleared the gate to the back fields, five wooly black calves rocketed away from the creep feeder like banditos caught red-handed in a bank robbery, their heads high and tails stiff.

The erosion levee in the first field used to hold back little more than a puddle. Today, it cradles a full-grown pond.

As I tromped along the ridge above the old pond - the big pond - wood ducks exploded off the water like buckshot out of the end of a gun barrel. Squirrels stampeded through leaf litter, raising enough ruckus to rival a herd of frightened buffalo.

It was the golden hour and the air was brisk. I resolved to hike all the way back to the Three Sisters and to the Giant's Thimble and to Narnia. I have missed these dear friends.

But I was thwarted. The carcass of a month-dead cow blocked the path across my favorite creek crossing. Cows pay the property taxes, and then they die and feed the coyotes, and the farmer who rents the land to run his cows on doesn't even notice that they are missing.

I attempted a different creek crossing but was not wearing boots adequate to ford the deeper water.

So I stood on the near side of the creek and stared long at the Three Sisters, just out of reach, still asleep, just like last time I saw them years ago, dreaming under the gray wool of frostbit broom straw, aglow in the warm light of the golden hour.

Higher boots are on my shopping list. I will be back, and I will kiss my three sweet sisters with my footsteps.

SPACE TO BE HUMAN

Years ago, my oldest son Reuben said to me that it is important to "make space to be human." What he meant, I believe, is that in the busy-ness of life - all the demands, commitments, obligations, things that must be done day-to-day just to stay alive - it is important to make space to do things that bring us joy, things that feed our souls. Things like baking beautiful bread or making music or pausing to enjoy the softness of moss or the loveliness of a sunset.

If I am, by nature, human, why the counsel "make space" to be human?

Because although I am a human, life in this fallen world is so constructed as to squeeze out my very soul. If I don't actively WORK to make space to be human, the busy-ness of life will consume me.

If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that I see a therapist. My current therapist, unlike my last, actually gives me assignments. Right now, I am working on setting and maintaining healthy work/personal life boundaries.

It's not going very well.

Technically, my job requires me to work or be available to work from 8:00am to 5:00pm, Mondays through Fridays, with one hour off for lunch. I am also expected to be available to work one night of secondary on-call each week and one weekend of secondary on-call every 5-6 weeks.

Lately, I have consistently worked 10-hour days, and I think the last time I actually took a break for lunch was during onboarding some 9 months ago.

Now, before you make some wrong assumptions, let me be clear: the problem here is not my employer. The problem is me. I have a distorted work ethic based on a wonky mental system of feeling like my worth and security are based on my performance (aka my overachieving/never-say-no warped way of thinking).

I CAN say no.

I CAN send scheduled visits back at the end of the day.

I CAN actually take a break to eat lunch, or to take a walk, or to simply pause and breathe.

But, I DON'T.

With my therapist's blessing, I set a personal goal last month of taking a 30-minute break each day - for at least 2 days a week - to eat lunch or take a walk. Baby steps.

Guess how many days I have taken a lunch break since setting that goal?

Zero.

Here's my list of excuses (because excuses are what they are) for not meeting this goal even one time:

• We're in a busy season at work.
• We are short-staffed.
• The work schedule will be better after we get through this month/after we hire another nurse/after hell freezes over.
• We have staff out sick.
• Work in healthcare, by nature, has ebbs and flows.
• Blah, blah, blah....

You get the picture. (Can any of you relate, Dear Readers?)

The bottom line is: I consistently do NOT make "space to be human," even in the very simple way of pausing in the middle of my day to eat lunch or to step away from work and breathe.

This has me wondering: Why is it so freakin' hard to "make space to be human"?

Is it only because of pressure from outside, pressures from work and social commitments and family responsibilities, etc? Or is part of the problem from within? Is there something internal, something inside of me, that resists/recoils/rebels at the thought of pausing, breathing, resting...in other words, is there something within me that resists the work of "being human"?

I think there is.

I am afraid to rest.

"Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy...."

Remember...to rest.

Is that even safe?

I think not.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.