What happens when the merry-go-round of your life stops? This unlikely oasis gives you permission to pause from constant activity. How do you respond?
Note about the image: This is Mystery Acres in the fall, looking down towards the wet-weather creek. One expert suspects there once was an indigenous village in this area. Could you sit here and do nothing?
My Mysterious Mind
In my last post I told you about my extended layover in Chicago on my way to the East Coast, through my airport restaurant dining experience using a meal voucher. After spending $40 of my own money to cover the costs and tip above the $12 food voucher, I set out to find the shuttle to the hotel. I was grateful for the refuge of that restaurant because getting to the hotel required a very long walk to another terminal followed by a delay in catching a hotel shuttle. That’s how life goes sometimes; a recovery from one season is followed quickly by the demands of the next.
My hotel room was lovely and spacious, and, for once, I would get the full benefit from the “one-night stay” because I arrived in the afternoon and wouldn’t be leaving until 11 a.m. the next morning for a shuttle back to the airport. I unpacked the entire contents of my overnight bag and surveyed my available possessions. I was grateful for the unexpected overnight stay in Charlotte on the way home from DC in April because that experience motivated me to prepare for this one. I would be OK, I concluded, so long as I was reunited with my checked suitcase the next day.
My third-floor room had a tiny balcony overlooking the flight path for planes landing at the airport. Every two minutes, in a surprisingly predictable pattern, a plane would fly in front of my room. Some people might find this annoying; I found the slow rhythm comforting, much like the waves on a beach. After the sun disappeared behind the horizon the lights of the planes were visible from my far right until each descended below the tree line to my left. Just as I lost sight of one plane, I would look to the right and the lights of another would appear. Like watching a live performance of dancers on a stage, I was filled with awe by this graceful dance of planes flown by different pilots coming from disparate locations.
In a last-minute packing decision, I had intentionally chosen to leave my laptops at home. So, here I was, stuck in a hotel room with supplies for the night, a book to read, and my journal. Here is what I wrote in the evening:
“It was a lot of work getting to the hotel…But all is peaceful now. The journey here was weird, but I feel good about being here. It’s good to be in a “pause” between worlds. No demands but my own needs.
“The woman at the bistro in the lobby was very kind, as were the customer service people on the phone and at the customer service counter. It was a kind gate agent who changed my flights, bringing me to this unexpected pause.
“I’m field testing my overnight emergency bag. So glad I assembled it after our DC trip! I have everything I need. I was prepared to be here. My path led me here. I am content. My needs are met. My body is comfortable. I can reflect without distractions of home or work or church. I didn’t bring a laptop. I even like the continuous sound of planes flying by. I’ve been pulled in so many directions during the past few years. But here, in this place, there is nothing threatening to pull me apart. Here I have permission to do nothing.”
I embraced that overnight stay like a mini spa vacation. I needed it to recover from the recent shifts of my life and to prepare for the remainder of my trip. The second day of my travels I flew to DC in the afternoon only to discover my suitcase went to Baltimore. I enjoyed some unplanned time in DC with my son, his wife, and our youngest grandson while waiting for my suitcase to be delivered to his house. On the third day of my trip, with suitcase finally in hand, I boarded a train for Maryland, my original destination. That night I slept on an air mattress because the fourth day of my trip, the next day, was moving day for my daughter and her family. The fourth night of my journey I slept on a couch in their new place. The next day, the fifth of my trip, I took a train back to DC. I stayed with my son and his family until the seventh day when I resumed my original itinerary to fly home from DC.
The message in all of this is to pause when life gives you permission to do so. That pause could be in a hotel room during a travel delay or it might be at the bedside of a loved one who is in hospice care. A life well-lived isn’t full of constant activity. Our times of recreation do not have to be packed with distractions and entertainment. What happened to our ability to sit on the porch and just be?
Message of Mystery Acres
During the first year my husband and I owned our beloved 17-and-a-half acres of forest we would bring lawn chairs and a picnic. We would walk around for a while and then just sit in our chairs in the woods. There wasn’t even a clear place to park our vehicle, and definitely nowhere to sleep for the night. After visiting for a few hours, we would load up our chairs and drive back home. But we wanted more.
Now I have a “to do list” for each visit, one that isn’t limited to sitting, eating, and relaxing. Those activities don’t even make the list; I have to remind myself to use our recreational property for recreation. When someone visits, we give ourselves permission to pause, grab our chairs, sit and just chat. Our dogs remind us to take them for walks at least twice a day. The evening is usually a quiet time to watch the close of the day and the emergence of the stars.
But on some visits I forget to use my hammock. The habit of constant motion intrudes on my relaxation time.
Because of the modern conveniences we’ve added to Mystery Acres it’s easier to be there, but it’s harder to just be there. The message of the forest invites us to just pause, to rest from the demands and distractions of life elsewhere. But all too often we fail to hear it. Purchased as an oasis, our forest is sometimes an unlikely place to find sanctuary. We did that to it. The forest is beckoning to me, giving me permission to pause, I need only accept the invitation.
Ancient Mystery’s Voice
Jesus said, “Come to Me, all those laboring and being burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
What do you picture when you think of being given a chance to rest? During a long walk a bench might provide a place to rest. Being given time to rest might look like taking a break after a period of prolonged, physical work. A nap after a restless night might count as rest.
When Jesus extended an invitation to those who were working hard and carrying heavy loads, He offered to give them rest. The Greek word He used is “anapausis”, derived from the word meaning intermission. The performers during a play take an intermission to give the audience and themselves a break. Notice that the word Jesus used for “rest,” anapausis, includes the letters, in the English version, “p-a-u-s” or pause.
Rephrasing the invitation to rest, Jesus might be saying, “Hey, you! Stop what you’re doing and come to Me. I’d like to help you pause from your hard work and your struggle to carry your problems.” Pause. Jesus invites the weary and heavy-laden to pause.
Mark, in his book about Jesus, described a time when Jesus instructed the disciples to rest. In Mark 6, verse 31, Jesus said, “Come away privately to a desert place and rest a little.” The New International Version, or NIV, is “Come with Me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” In more modern language, we might hear Jesus say, “Take a break from everything and get away somewhere just with Me.”
The original Greek word Jesus used for the place to take a break is most closely translated as desert. Various translations have instead used the word secluded, desolate, remote, lonely, or isolated, a few even referring to the place as the wilderness. Jesus invited the disciples to go somewhere devoid of people and distractions, a place where He alone would be with them.
The voice of Ancient Mystery extends that invitation to us, too. The invitation for today’s device-distracted generation includes the qualifiers of “no phones, no screens, no computers, no televisions, not even a crossword puzzle; take nothing with you but yourself.” To truly rest, to completely pause, requires a separation from everything. Think of being somewhere without people or distractions – that’s where Jesus calls you to meet with Him. Will you accept the invitation?
Living in Mystery
What does it mean to live in the mystery of having permission to pause, finding unlikely oasis in spaces with nothing? First it means recognizing when your path has taken you to a place of pause. This could be a cancellation in your agenda, stalled traffic, or even an overnight layover in Chicago. These “Oh, no!” moments can be turned into “Oh, yay!” instead. Rather than fighting the permission to do nothing, embrace it.
Thus, when given an invitation to pause, accept the invitation. Tell the universe “thank you” for stopping the merry-go-round for you. Stopping is good. Pausing is pleasant. Doing nothing is healthy.
And about that - Learn to do nothing. Nothing. No phones, screens, or computers. How long can you sit with just yourself and your thoughts? Try it. I’ll wait.
Just kidding. You can pause the recording or step away from the screen and get back with me afterwards.
But seriously, can you do nothing? In our distraction-infused world, doing nothing is getting harder. Try doing nothing when there are people around you. The first thing you will notice is that almost all of them are on their phones, scrolling through something, texting, or watching videos. Can you sit and just be with yourself? It’s OK to “people-watch” – that doesn’t count against you in attempts to do nothing.
Practice doing nothing in various locations. Sit on the front steps of your home and do nothing. Sit on the deck and do nothing. Go to a park and do nothing. Look out the window of your office or home and do nothing. I hereby give you permission to do nothing on a regular basis.
As an old mom to young parents, I challenge you to teach your children to be able to do nothing and be content. It’s not a waste of time; it’s time well spent. Don’t show them how to fill the empty minutes looking at a phone. Learn to rest in the peaceful space of nothing. Show them how to rest in a peaceful space of nothing.
Living in the mystery of a full life means embracing the unlikely oasis of doing nothing. I encourage you to find places where you can practice pausing from your life. No books. No devices. No music. When life gives you an unexpected oasis in which to pause, accept it with gratitude. The Lord of all Mystery is beckoning you to peaceful places, heed His voice.
Connecting with Mystery
Dear Lord of All Mystery, thank You for inviting me to a quiet place with You to rest. Help me to fully accept that invitation, pausing regularly in peaceful spaces. You give me permission to pause from my work, my problems, and endless distractions. Thank You for helping me pause and find oasis with You. Amen.
Notes from Dr. Mac
If you want to do your own investigation of any of the scriptures I use, I suggest you try Bible Gateway. This free online version of the Bible allows a search of words or phrases in various translations. I encourage you to ponder Mark 6 verse 31 and hear Jesus inviting you to join Him as you enjoy a pause from modern life and all its distractions and troubles.
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