The Hebrew word “Shabbat” comes from a root that means “to repose, to desist from exertion.” It means literally, to rest. And that is exactly what I’m suggesting.
If you were a bird, I’d tell you to soar. But you’re a human, so use your two legs and leap. Hop. Somersault. Whip and nae nae if you have to. Just move forward in faith.
Losing your life isn’t a one-time deal. Instead, it’s more of a recurring opportunity to value the eternal over the present. This is as simple (and as difficult) as being convinced that your deepest self has been invited to be fully alive.
I’m a born and raised Canadian, so moving away from my close community and choosing to live in one of the top 10 most populous cities in the U.S. was quite a big leap for me. These are the lessons I’m still learning about being bold, stepping out, and creating community.
Whether we like it or not, life is monotonous. We do the same thing day after day, and it often feels like we have nothing to show for it. The laundry keeps piling up. The traffic on the road is always backed up. The coffee pot always burns the brew. The spacebar on the keyboard at work always sticks.
It’s easy to fall into the routine of looking at others for approval in an effort to determine our own levels of success. Here are a few tips for avoiding the comparison trap and maintaining a healthy perspective.
Happy things happen and I want to gloat. Sad things happen, and I want to pout. Affirm me, people! But no one in Facebook-land responded for weeks. Not even my family. Not one single like. Not one single comment.
There is one area of my life that, despite my best intentions and efforts, usually ends in failure. It is the area of gardening. I rarely keep plants alive. Leafy greens, blooming bulbs and even the un-needy cacti die slow, painful deaths all around my house.
I don’t like feelings very much. I don’t like them because they are vulnerable and raw and I’d rather be covered and safe. I don’t like them because they show weakness and fear and much worse, shame.
When I woke up, I went to see our new baby. I looked through a window into the nursery. One side of the room was lined with baby beds all full of babies. Except one bed was missing. And tubes and cords hung from the wall in a tangle, as if one of the babies had left in a rush.