Once, while in my getaway nest, it occurred to me I needed to get busy and do something worthwhile. After all, didn’t I somehow have to pay for this time alone? Nothing is free, you know.
It wasn't acceptable to do nothing. “Nothing,” as defined by some such as: reading a book for entertainment, leafing through magazines, or steeping in a bathtub of warm water. Napping. Playing around with watercolors. Grazing in a discount store, or, literally doing nothing. Sitting quietly, thinking. When I do such things, this vague feeling always slips in that I’m probably lollygagging – and that’s an activity that’s a little iffy for God’s disciple. That troublesome feeling makes me rebuke my un-industrious self: “Get busy! Get yourself in gear!! (I could almost hear a whip cracking.)
Who conveyed to me this guilt-soaked concept that doing nothing occasionally is an abomination? An abomination to whom? Perhaps to those who see incessant bustling as “next to godliness”?
My parents didn’t teach me that perpetual “productive” motion is a fruit of the Spirit. As a kid mom and dad allowed me to explore, pretend, devour books, or simply hang out in trees - thoroughly delighting in my world. Oh, I had chores – work was essential in our family, but, thank the Lord, my parents also were good with “do-nothing” time.
Maybe if I work at it hard enough (huh?), I can shush that nagging voice that snips at me when I do “nothing important.” You know what? In “doing nothing” I just might glean some inexpensive ideas to help young women on limited budgets (is that mentoring?). The watercolor dabbling may morph into illustrations for the book on contentment for my grans. (It did.)That nap could sweeten my disposition by the time hubby comes home –yea! That fictional novel convicted me with its message on forgiveness.
Best of all, doing nothing, being still and quiet with my God may bring me into an intimate relationship with him I would never have otherwise experienced.
Perhaps “doing nothing” isn’t so bad after all.