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Caught Napping
November 20, 2005
I never took Sunday afternoon naps until I married into a family where the tradition was to nap on Sunday afternoon whether you needed it or not. And God says we need it. I originally thought this was a completely wasteful use of a free afternoon and did not adapt easily to this change in routine. Napping was for the very young and the very old and certainly not for me--or so I thought. Fifty years of too busy Sabbaths have caught up with me. Now I'm sneaking Sunday naps like an addict who needs their fix. A previous week of too little sleep lands heavily on Sunday with a new week looming large. Banking a couple hours of sleep seems like just what the doctor ordered. So off I slink, on a perfectly beautiful sunny fall Sunday afternoon, to pull the shades and crawl under the quilt. I might as well be trying to nap perched in a tree branch--it simply is not a restful spot.
My pager goes off. A patient is being transported by paramedics to the hospital with abdominal pain. I make the necessary calls, satisfying myself that she is getting the care she needs, and cover my head up again. My son knocks on the door, letting me know he's leaving to hang out with friends and will call when he's coming home. Then my husband comes in looking for his iPod headphones as he's heading out for a walk. My daughter sticks her head in wanting to know if she can borrow my pedometer for the same walk. I'm starting to feel the futility now. I should be out in the sun, walking, enjoying, conversing, even cleaning the barn. Instead I'm hunkered down and hiding, hoping for a few moments of elusive sleep. The pager goes off again. Another patient has just messed up his back playing frisbee and is having terrible spasms. By this time my brain is having spasms.
I've done this to myself, creating this busy life of commitments and responsibilities, neglecting Sabbath rest. My weary body is meant to rest in the arms of the Lord, cradled, comforted and safe. Yet I've perched on the precipice, wondering why I fail to sleep soundly as I struggle to balance all this activity.
This week I am reminded of my indebtedness for the immense gifts I've been given--for my family and our health, our warm home, our amazing farm and barn full of horses, for my work that gives me so much joy and satisfaction-- even when all this gifts keep me too busy. I am deeply grateful for friends around the world who touch me daily and for my friends who live close enough that they are just like family. Ideally Thanksgiving should be a deeply felt daily ritual, not a once a year food orgy. I don't want to be caught napping when I can be seeking peace that surpasses understanding. No nap, or turkey with all the trimmings meal, can ever come close.
May my Thanksgiving be every day for every good thing.
Emily