Here it is. The day we’ve been building up to all week. The day we’ve been looking forward to since Sunday night. Or maybe since last Friday.
That day that spins us into utter denial that Monday even exists.
This is the first Friday in several weeks that I’ve spent any amount of time by myself. So, like most otherwise unoccupied and inordinately exhausted college girls, I’m spending my evening in my dorm room, laptop on my lap, eating leftover Valentine chocolate. I contemplated a nap, but too many people are coming in and out of my room to justify that kind of activity.
It’s moments like that in which I feel like I’ve entered some kind of limbo—halfway between the beginning of one week and the end of another. A hiccup in time when I’m too tired to think of doing anything profitable. And I’m itching to do something creative. Draw. Write. Listen to music. Dream a little. Think a little. Make a little magic.
Anything, so long as it wasn’t something assigned.
Considering the Valentine’s chocolate just started laughing at me, I may want to consider going running.
Unfortunately, it’s moments like these that make my “make every moment of life count” philosophy unravel a little. Right now, I don’t feel like doing anything. I have no other obligations, nowhere to go, things to do but no motivation and no energy to do them.
It’s moments like these where I literally sit and wonder, “What would Jesus do?” What would Jesus do with an unoccupied, empty moment? I’m reading through the book of Mark right now, and one of the things that’s hit me is that Jesus was a busy, busy man. He never stopped. He never had a moment to himself. He didn’t have an empty moment. He never scheduled time to get away from the throngs that came to Him for healing and salvation and take time to Himself. There are one or two moments I’ve read of where He got away, and when He did, He spent His alone time praying—hanging out, if you will, with His heavenly Father.
I realize that, and I’m ashamed of my own limitations. Ashamed that I can’t give of myself 100% like He can. True, He’s the Son of God—but often I wonder if by saying “be ye holy, as I am holy” meant that we should strive to be like Him, even down to the way He spent His time.
After all, we only get so much time to make the biggest difference we can.
But there is a time to work, and a time to dance. Right now my soul is dancing as my body rests. After all, it’s awfully hard to serve God when your body is overworked. So I will take this empty moment to meditate, to dream, to pray, to hope, to rest.
Tomorrow is another day.