Last night, I set my alarm. I was going to follow Marilyn’s advice (the chaplain) and set for myself a schedule. And so this morning the alarm beeped and I got myself up out of bed and turned it off. 8:15am. I’d gone to bed around 11pm. A pretty good eight hours. I waited a moment, and then I climbed back into bed. Thus began my slow paced day.But I finally did get up for good perhaps an hour and a half later to fix myself breakfast. Then it was time to tackle the room which looked this morning much like it did when I took that picture yesterday. A friend distracted me long enough last night to keep me from beginning anything beyond moving my bike to the hallway. Or did I do that this morning? Yes, I keep my bicycle in my room. Not because I had extra space and thought it made for a nice decoration, but because the harsh Kentucky winter weather so destroyed it that I think I have to replace the chain if not the whole gear changing system. That’s floating around the “Things to spend my money on the moment I get it” list. Thanks Kentucky and thanks Asbury for the proper bike storage facility. I was searching for ways to spend money I don’t have. I appreciate this opportunity. Nonetheless, the bike is out of the way for now. Well, except that it’s currently blocking my suite hallway.
I woke up feeling as if yesterday were continuing into today. I wasn’t out of it like I was at points yesterday (when I said I fell apart, I was not exaggerating—the description to a friend today was, “I bit the dust.”), but I felt as if the stress on my heart were still there and my biggest thought was, “I don’t want to see or talk to anybody.” When I get stressed, I retreat. Some throw themselves into their relationships. Some throw themselves into work or busyness. But me? I retreat, and usually I don’t do anything at all. But despite already failing at Marilyn’s scheduling advice, I still wanted to see if being productive was going to be as worth it to me as she claimed it would. And so I began to clean which first included reorganizing my books, many of which, were sitting on my extra bed and had been there for quite some time.
In the middle of it all, I picked up my Christmas present from Marilyn. She had given me a fantastic book called Wreck This Journal, which, in fact, is a journal with different instructions on each page for ways to destroy it. I carried it with me everywhere for the first week or two and flipped through it each day looking for which page’s instructions I might want to participate in. But over time, it got lost in my messy life. I saw it a few times, but it wasn’t till today when I finally opened it back up again. And made a funnel. It went a bit like this.
This, of course, is usually how cleaning my room goes, and so it takes a long time. It’s still not done, so no pictures of it today. But after that bit of fun, I continued on with the room. The books took a long time. I didn’t get much else done. And so went the productivity. I reflected a bit on how I felt versus how I felt yesterday. Did being productive help? As I thought to myself, I realized today I felt useless, still, but not pointless whereas yesterday I’d felt both. In a response to a text message today, I told Marilyn, “I feel like I suck, but then I sort of feel like I don’t suck that much.” Maybe that’s the best way to say it.
But productivity stopped around dinner time when I suddenly remembered I was spending the evening with my friend Ann who had just graduated and was in town for a few days for what is likely the last time for a long while. I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy for her, but then I convinced her to watch Gandhi, which she’d never seen.
Gandhi, if you don’t know, is one of my favorite movies, and I have a tradition every year in which at the beginning of my summer vacation, I watch that movie. Seminary sucks the life out of me. Not the life that makes me breathe and eat, but the life that makes that all worth while. In a religion that is all about prayer, suffering, and self-sacrificing service, our schools shove our schedules full of debates, dusty books, paper writing, the reference section of the library and very little with the hearts of people. And so I watch this three hour long movie at this time every year to remind me of what I’m passionate about, of what matters in life, of who I am. Because in seminary, I lose that, and this time, I really lost it. Today, though, was not me participating in that tradition. I did that earlier this week. But any chance I can get to introduce it to a friend is a chance I’ll take! Watching Gandhi reminds me of the faith that Jesus Christ died for us to have. Each time it teaches me the same things and new things. It teaches me that the best causes will take our whole lives, that we can never accomplish anything alone, that the desire to make a difference must come from a place deep within ourselves that reaches beyond the approval of others (we will otherwise fail), that the biggest things that will happen in my life will simply be a culmination of a lot of smaller decisions and actions. And today it taught me that before the glory of the front lines, you must do the dirty work, the grunt work that no one sees but that builds in you stamina and a resistance to adversity. When I watch Gandhi, I feel more alive than I do all school year. And so Ann and I watched, each of us learning new things and Ann getting to learn about Gandhi for the first time. By the time the movie was over, it was almost midnight.And so my day has come to a close. As I write this it is currently 2am, and it’s long past time for me to go to bed. From my window I can see the lightning from a storm that is moving in over Wilmore, and it gives my heart a little joy. Storms are by far my favorite thing about Kentucky. As the rain begins to fall, I’m shutting myself down for the night and to the lullaby of rain drops on my window and rumbling thunder, I will fall asleep.
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