Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Learning to Say No (Long winded and with tangents)

"It's hard to say no when the need never stops."

That's what I told Pastor Zach on Sunday while explaining why I wasn't going to Ecuador with the church in February.

Let me repeat that:

My church is going to Ecuador. My current home has a passion and love for my home country. And I'm not going with them.

I'm not going with them because I'm still in recovery. Ministry burnout took more than I knew, recovery takes longer than I hoped, longer than I planned. I planned for two months, three at the most. The Husband and I married in September and stay-at-home-wife isn't really a thing in my generation, so clearly I would get a job. A couple months off to rest, I figured, then I'd work on my resume and definitely have a job by January. At least a part-time job. Something to show that I am a worthwhile person, that I am contributing to my little family of two, that my time is spent well, that I am not lazy and taking advantage of my wonderful husband, that I'm not using anxiety and burnout as an excuse to binge Netflix and keep up on Hulu.

Yet here it is, the day before February, and my church is going to my home country (where it's the best time of year, sunny and in the 70s) and I can't go. I consider a productive day to be one that includes cooking and/or knitting, possibly some freelance editing. Laundry is an accomplishment. Showering in the morning is an accomplishment. One that I haven't completed today, I confess.

But that's all a tangent.

"It's hard to say no when the need never stops."

I felt that way for four years with ICI. I feel that way still. My parents are moving in February, and my first instinct is, "Should I go down and help?" My friend from college is in the hospital, her husband home with two foster boys, and I think, "Should I go down and help?" We're not even that close anymore, but I passionately believe that we should foster, adopt, and support those who do. The church asked if we could help with the children's ministry, and I gritted my teeth as I forced myself to say no. The crisis in Venezuela continues as refugees pour into Ecuador, my parents supporting a local church that is partnering with a church in Venezuela, and I think, are there relief programs in place? Can I go help in one, start one?

No. No. NO.

So, unable to be the hands and feet of Jesus, I pray, and I ask the Husband if we can give. Be the pocketbook of Jesus, so to speak. Not that He needs us to be His pocketbook. Not that anyone in America calls it a pocketbook anymore.

Having explained my burnout and limited energies to Pastor Zach, he responds by sharing the time he also ran himself ragged. How he also talked to doctors and counselors. He encouraged me to be ok with taking care of myself. After all, even Jesus left the crowds for times of rest. Even though the needs didn't stop there either. People still needed healing. Still asked Him to talk to them. Still wanted more from Him. But He stepped away.

This January marks 25 years of ministry in Ecuador for my parents. I only made it four in Chicago. But then again, Jesus only had three years of active ministry on earth, so maybe it's not a numbers game. Because if it were, then I beat out Jesus, so I must have done pretty well after all. But that sounds not only sacreligious, but petty and foolish.  And maybe a bit funny. I'm sure he had a sense of humor. Has. Present tense.

I don't know why I expect more for myself than is reasonable. I don't know why I assign time frames for healing and recovery. I don't know why I assume the Husband is silently judging and evaluating me. He's not. He gives me more grace and understanding than I give myself.

Pastor Zach suggested something I had never considered: A long-term view of ministry. The Husband agreed: I tend to sprint right out the gate. But sprinting isn't feasible for the long-term. A lifetime of loving and serving others can only be achieved if I also love and care for myself. There's all kinds of literature out there now about The Best Yes (which is a book on my shelf given by a kind roommate that I have yet to read), and how every time you say yes to one thing you say no to something else, and saying no allows you to say yes to something else. The latter being things like rest, family, health, etc.

Some days, the Husband comes home from work and he has to reheat the plan-ahead leftovers, because I am so drained, from life in general, from a migraine, the reasons vary, that moving from my nest on the couch seems infeasible. My one job as a wife: feed the man. And I don't even always do that. (Maybe I'll change the job description to "Kiss the man." I can always do that.)

I am learning to accept that my needs matter, even though the wounds are hidden wounds and hard to describe to the outsider. I'm learning that limitations are a beautiful thing. I'm learning that "No" is not a bad answer. And I daily thank God for the gift of the time and space to do that.

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