How closing my eyes helped me see my need for rest

Tomorrow is Friday. I cannot wait to go to work.

Those...are not usually sentences that go together, but when you've had the kind of week I've had, it makes perfect sense.

It started on Sunday morning.

OK, actually, no. If we want to get super technical about it, it started in May 2011, during the first week of my internship at the paper.

I was on the weekend shift for the first time, a gig that would become familiar in the years to follow. I was paired with Steve, on the veteran reporters, who was there to show me the ropes and make sure I knew what I needed to know to get through a day in the newsroom as the solo reporter. 

Our Saturday was fairly busy with events and there was even breaking news when a well-known local musician passed away. I spent the day doing interviews and even though I didn't have to - this was back when our website was only updated after the paper was published - I sat down before the end of my shift and transcribed all my interview tape.

Little did I know at the time how important it would be that I did that. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Later that night, my then-boyfriend (now husband) and I went out with some friends. We went out to a bar for some live music. I wasn't drinking - I had to work the next day - but we had a good time. Everything was going great - until it was time to leave.

It's hard to explain how this happened, especially if you have never been to this particular bar, but basically: I got elbowed in the face and it essentially destroyed my cornea.  It was exactly as painful as it sounds.

We went back to Jeff's place and I tried to sleep it off but I just was not getting anywhere with it. Eventually, we ended up in the emergency room, where the doctor froze it (thank HEAVENS) and then put this green dye in to see where the injury was. I obviously could not see it but I guess it was pretty impressive because he invited other doctors in to see it, too. It was that bad. 

So when my co-worker came to pick me up that Sunday morning, I met him at the door wearing an eye patch, struggling to use my other eye as I explained I could not go in. I gave him my password for the computer, told him where my notes were and, bless him, he went and finished the job I was supposed to do. It was all kinds of embarrassing. 

But what I didn't know then is that the injury had also resulted in permanent damage. That, although I felt better after a week of patches and drops and ointment and rest, those kind of injuries never really heal completely, resulting in a condition called recurrent corneal erosion syndrome. As the name suggests, the biggest issue with RCES is painful flare ups. 

It started with little ones. I'd wake up in the middle of the night with that stabbing pain in my eye. It's a kind of pain I can't really explain because words like 'brutal' and 'intense' don't really do it justice. Thankfully, with these little flare ups, simply letting my eyes tear up a bit and keeping them shut tight until I can drift off to sleep is often enough to fix the issue. I wake up in the morning and everything is fine.

But occasionally, it does not work like that. So far, since the initial injury, it has happened twice. This past Sunday was one of those times. 

Those incidents require more intervention. In this case, it was a trip to the ER at 5:30 a.m., where there was not much that could be done outside putting in some drops to relieve the pain. I knew I would need to see the ophthalmologist, but was surprised to find out there was not one on-call at the hospital in my city. The options were to drive about an hour outside the city to see one that day or wait until the next morning and go see the one who has dealt with my file before. 

We went with the second option. My husband drove me home and I spent the day in bed, with my eyes shut, dealing with random spurts of pain at random increments of time. 

I wanted to sleep, but every time I would get close, another little jolt of pain would wake me up (go figure). I know I managed to get in some rest, but for the most part, I was just laying in bed.

After clearing boredom, I transitioned to annoyed. There were SO many things I was supposed to do that Sunday - teach Sunday school one last time before the summer break, attend the goodbye reception for two dear friends (and their precious baby girl) who are transitioning to a new season, connect with those who are set to help us paint out new place over the long weekend, and prepared food for the week ahead. Sunday's are busy in our household and being out of commission due to such a small thing (the eye) was frustrating to me.

I was stewing in that feeling when something popped into my mind.

You need to stop, to slow down. You are a human being, not a human doing. You don't see that you need rest, so maybe taking your ability to see all the things you think you need to be doing will help you focus on what is actually important.

I'm going to be real here: I know there are a lot of people who hear things from God on the regular, but that isn't me. While I have felt his presence and I have seen prayer answered - all that good stuff - I can think of maybe two or three other times when I have heard him speak something specific to the situation I found myself in. In that moment, laying on my bed with my eyes shut, unable to do much of anything, I know without a doubt that was the word God spoke to me. 

And I knew immediately that I had something to repent for - my unwillingness to accept rest. 

So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God's rest has also rested from his works as God did from his. Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience. 

Hebrews 4:9-11

It didn't take long to identify the problems my unwillingness to rest was creating in my life. Recently, I was telling my husband I was feeling burnt out - not in one area, but generally. Burnt out on serving. Burnt out on working. Burnt out on trying to sort out our finances. Burnt out on maintaining the status quo, let alone moving into anything more. And, unfortunately, that burnt out feeling was manifesting in some less than ideal ways in other areas of my life, like my relationships with others. 

But that, while significant, is a surface level reflection of the real issue - the problem my unwillingness to slow down and rest has had on my relationship with God. When I am going all the time, I am not spending time in the word. I am not spending time in prayer. And you know how it goes - you can't pour into others if you aren't being filled.

Even when I recognized this, I was still resistant to it. I tried to work from home on Wednesday, only to be told by my boss to knock it off and focus on getting better. Although the pain in the eye is gone, the double vision brought on by the contact bandaid persists, meaning for the last couple days it has been an either or kind of thing - either I am using a screen or I am in light, not both. The first few days were boring. Today, though - my last day before the bandaid comes off and I can return to work - I decided to embrace it.

I slept in. I washed my hair and I worked a little on our budget and I made mac and cheese and I cleaned the kitchen. I watched a little TV and I played a little Harvest Moon. I went out to Starbucks where I booked a hotel for a weekend trip and I wrote this blog post.  Tonight, I'll write in my prayer journal and probably read, as long as my eye isn't bothering me too much. I'll put in my drops and I'll go to bed at a decent hour so I can wake up and work for a couple hours before I go to my appointment.

I accomplished a lot but I'm not ending the day feeling exhausted and done. I'm looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. It is a nice change.

What I'm trying to say here is this: rest isn't just good, it's necessary. It's not easy to find time to do it in this crazy life, but finding time voluntarily sure beats being forced. Don't be like me, friends.