Sometimes on Friday, I join The Gypsy Mama to write for five minutes unedited about the prompt she gives us.
Today our word was “rest.”
The technician wires me up and connects me to her machine and I step on the treadmill.
“Every three minutes, the incline and speed will increase a little. If it gets to be too much, tell us and we’ll stop.”
At first I’m fine, but a few cycles in, I feel my heart pounding and it’s harder to get a good, deep breath. I’m trying to carry on a conversation, dutifully answering the questions the technician is asking, but then she asks me to let go of the bar with one hand so she can check my blood pressure and it’s all I can do to hold on. I hear my pulse pounding as if it’s coming from inside my head of my heart.
“The machine will slow down, but when it stops, you stop and be perfectly still.”
She has me come back to the bed to lie down so she can take another blood pressure reading and almost as quickly as I felt my heart race wildly, I feel it settle down into a comfortable rhythm.
Sometimes my life feels like a stress test.
The path feels steeper and it feels like the world is going faster than I can keep up. I try as hard as I can to pick up the pace, but I just can’t push any harder. And it feels like if I let go for just even a second, I’m going to fall right off the edge of the world.
Just when I think I can’t make it not even one more step, You call me to rest. To be quiet and listen for Your still, small voice. I think I can’t rest because of all the rest, but like a treadmill going nowhere, it will all be there. And I’ll have the strength to continue with my real-life “stress test.”
After I rest.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
You can read what others wrote about rest here.