True story: Prior to a couple weeks ago, I can’t remember the last time I read a fiction book.
Which if you know me, is kind of sad. I used to devour books. Some of my favorite gifts were books my grandmother would pick up for me on her travels to England. The Brits always have the best books.
But somewhere among the responsibilities that accompany marriage, parenthood, and homemaking, I gave up the practice of planting my nose squarely in a book that transported me to another world.
Plus it wasn’t like I gave up reading altogether. Just fiction. I could still justify non-fiction as more educational.
My oldest is a book worm. He polishes books off quicker than I can keep them coming. It might make me love him more. It’s a weekly ritual to sit at the computer and submit his library requests. (so I don’t have to deal with three kids grabbing all the books off the shelves, literally YELLING and running throughout the library, and me then hyperventilating in the car. Because we DO NOT act like that around the BOOKS!). After he had drifted away one week, I thought of a few books I had been meaning to read, some of them fiction and submitted my requests. After they were received, I gave myself permission to just sit and read. Without guilt.
I’m frustrated at how rarely I give myself permission to just sit. To simply enjoy and soak up something I love. Whether it be the sunshine, a good meal, a walk along my favorite path, or watching my children play together. It often feels too self indulgent and frivolous when there are things like slavery, poverty, and laundry at hand.
Even in the unbusying of my life, and saying no to just about all the things, I still find myself busy. With laundry. With dinner. With homemaking. With keeping three kids entertained and worn out. It feels a bit reckless to just stop and be.
And I’m kind of mad that I, or anyone else has put that on me (especially considered God has commanded the opposite). I’m mad that it has rolled over into my relationship with God where I feel like DOING is better than BEING, when BOTH are important (and one could argue dependent on each other).
I’m giving myself more permission to just be. To not rush. To curl up with a good book. To ignore laundry and dishes. To be a bit self-indulgent. I would encourage you to do the same (unless it’s your norm). Find an area where you’ve put something you love to the side in the name of discipline, order, or DOING. Enjoy the good gift that God has given to you, and the opportunity to be.
The opportunity to be is an incredible gift. I had a friend tell me just this morning to have a super day being me. Something about the way she said it just made me so happy. Because I get to be me today. I don’t have to do all the things because the Internet says to; I don’t have to avoid the things because I say so. I can be still. I can let go. Laundry can wait for a while. Fingerprints on the fridge can stay just a little longer. I can read a book. I can watch a movie. I can sit and listen to music. One can argue that DOING and BEING are dependent on one another. It’s a bit of a Sabbath mindset, right? Love you, sweet friend. Love your heart. Love your words. Enjoy your reading!
chiming in a bit late. are you still reading? i find myself feeling like i should be doing something other than reading, too, at times, but… oh my, doesn’t it feel wonderful to stop & be? fiction is my favorite. also, i am with you on selecting books online. so glad to hear (er, read..?) i’m not the only one who cannot deal with my kids in the library. yelling, running, pulling off the shelves,,. it’s too much for me. hooray(!) for the internet!