Somehow, just like that, the week is over and it’s time to leave Maui and board an express plane headed straight for reality. I’m so reluctantly boarding the plane tonight with mixed feelings: not because of the beach, the weather, the company, or the piña coladas (though those have all been amazing). I’m mostly reluctant because of what trips like these always seem to remind me of; the inner desire that resides in all of us: to just slow down.
The mornings and evenings here are so relaxed, so quiet, and so still. No one is rushing anywhere- no deadlines to be met, no appointments to hurry off to. It’s almost like in this foreign, uncomfortable silence I can feel God calling me, pleading with me to learn from this. To practice being still. To make a conscious choice to work hard at resting. To cast away the endless to do list and stop basing worth on achievements. To stop the glorification of busy and instead find true peace in the quiet. This isn’t a new phenomenon- in fact I’ve blogged about it before. But somehow in this season of life it feels more relevant than ever.
I’ve spent 25 years making lists- real and mental. I’ve spent a life checking off items and tasks and over committing to a million things and helping everyone I know because it’s all I know how to do- and because it all makes me feel needed and important and valued.I’ve heard “I don’t know how you do it all...” about a million times in the last 6 months.
And instead of it being a wake up call or a realization that I was doing too much, I allowed it to feel more like a pat on the back. Instead of acknowledging people’s genuine concern, I instead proudly wore their comments like an A+ on some imaginary and arbitrary report card. Like somehow handling more than other people do makes me stronger, more capable, or more worthy of love or anything else. I pride myself on doing more, being more productive, having more accomplishments to list on paper. More boxes checked off on that list. I pride myself on not needing time to slow down, not needing rest and not needing help from anyone at all. Add a chronic illness on top of it all, and you have a recipe for sure disaster.
And so I think it’s times like these that God tries to show me, quite literally, with rainbows and sunsets and sandy smiles and ocean waves that this frantic way of life doesn’t have to be the only way to live. It doesn't have to be the only way to feel strong and loved and important. There is another choice, another way of living more fully, and it can be found and created outside of the peace and stillness so easily seen here on Maui, too.
I won’t say that I’m suddenly good at the practice of stillness or that I’m coming home a changed person- it’s just simply not true. But I do think it’s a step (forceful shove) in the right direction, and for that I am thankful.
Mahalo, Maui. Thanks for everything.