On Learning To Stand Still

Sometimes my husband puts things in the microwave, and then he just … stands there.

He could be waiting upwards of three minutes (!) for his burrito to thaw, or the popcorn to pop, or the leftovers to revive themselves.

I know what you’re thinking: so what? You’re right. A normal person would think that. But do you know what I think when I see this unfold? I think: why aren’t you making yourself useful?

I look at the dirty dishes in the sink, or the clean dishes in the dishwasher. I look at the overflowing garbage that needs to be taken out, the crumbs on the high chair that need to be wiped, the box of La Croix sitting on the counter that needs to be emptied into the fridge.

This thought process is not exclusive to the kitchen. I can walk in any room, at any moment in the day, and immediately spot what needs to be done. This is my greatest superpower: I can identify impending productivity a mile away. 

I’m pretty sure my husband would call this my greatest weakness: an inability to stand still for three whole minutes at any given time. 

***

A few months ago, I stopped listening to podcasts.

I usually listen to podcasts while I clean my house or fold a mountain of laundry on the bed because multitasking is my favorite kind of tasking. Always has been, always will be. I respond to e-mails while I eat lunch. I open mail while I monitor pasta on the stove. I watch online classes about writing or photography while I bake scones. I am always doing this and that, never this or that. 

It’s almost like an unconscious game. How many things can I do at once? How can I utilize every second of every minute of every hour to accomplish as much as humanly possible? How can I not let one minute of this day be wasted? 

This all lines up with being a type three on the Enneagram, but there’s one part of type threes I’ve always wrestled with—the idea of being competitive. Outside of my marriage (where I am playfully competitive with my husband 365 days a year), it’s not a word I would use to describe myself. That is, until I realized—I am Monica Geller. 

In “The One With The Late Thanksgiving” Monica and Chandler tell the group they don’t want to host. This is the conversation that follows:

Phoebe: Sure. It's just as well... I mean, last year wasn't very good. I think she's losing her touch.

Monica: What? You are way off, lady!

Phoebe: Am I? Really? Am I? Well, why don't you cook Thanksgiving dinner and prove me wrong! Well, think about it, you'll be trying to top what you did last year. You'd be in competition ... with yourself.

Monica: That's my favorite kind! Okay, we are doing this!

Chandler: Don't let yourself get manipulated this way!

Monica: Hey, stay out of this, Chandler! This is between me ... and ME!

… I am embarrassed to admit how much this resonates. 

***

Back in February, I heard a pastor ask, “How often are you listening to God?”

He said people used to say you could measure your heart by your checkbook, but maybe a better analogy for 2020 is to say you could measure your heart by what you spend your screen time on.

He asked, if you were to measure how much you are listening to Jesus, what would you find?

I knew I wouldn’t like my own answer before he even asked.

***

Yesterday my husband took our boys swimming for the day, leaving me home with the baby. By 5pm I had cleaned the house, reorganized the art cart, packed up (and dropped off) three Goodwill bags, ordered the last set of photos for Presley’s baby book, worked on an essay, taken a shower, emptied and reloaded the dishwasher, watched an online sermon, and finished editing a recent photo session. 

A friend asked last week, “How is sabbatical going?”

I told her the truth: “I’m trying really hard not to fill it up with other things.”

I am off to a rough start.

***

Here is where I’m tempted to tell you how much better I’m doing—how much I’m learning about rest and identity, merit and love. Here is where I’m tempted to tell you all the ways I am, by the grace of God, untangling my sense of worth from a constant quest for productivity. 

And all of that might be true. I am in the middle of an eight-week sabbatical. I did not take eight weeks off after the births of my last two children. This is growth! Progress! Look at me, finally embracing Sabbath! I can put my out of office message on without wincing. I can take a significant break from work without breathing into a paper bag. I can go on vacation and leave my laptop at home. I am acing the big tests. I’ve got the macro level down. It’s the smaller, daily assignments I still struggle with—the homework, the practice, the three minute pockets of time.  

I am in the middle of an eight-week sabbatical, yes, but I cannot stand idle while things cook in the microwave, and this is how I know I have more work to do. 

***

This summer, I am learning to stand still. No podcasts; no Instagram. I am learning to fold laundry in the quiet, to leave the radio off in the car. I am learning to lie on the trampoline with my daughter and watch the leaves sway over our heads while my phone sits in a drawer. I am learning how to garden, how to be patient, how to wait for things to grow.

I am learning not to view every moment as something to be utilized, an opportunity to be seized.
For some moments, are simply, a gift to enjoy.

***

Listen out for the low-pitched song of the bleubird, 
the rustling leaves, 
the sound of rain. 
Listen for any little reminder of Life, 
feel it call you by your name.
Consider the small and nearly missed, 
consider the bold, unanimously grand, 
consider it all something, 
worth tasting and cherishing, 
making the most of your days at hand.

Consider it a natural thing
if this way of living
takes some patterning
and getting used to, 
for this is an unfolding
of a novel-length awakening
of seeing what has always
been calling you.

-Morgan Harper Nichols

***

These are baby steps, wrapped in grace.

Who knows?

Maybe by fall, I’ll be able to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and stare out the window while it pops.