It’s late on a Monday evening. Perhaps I should be listening to the call of my pillow, rather than the call of my soul. But maybe that’s just it. It’s a question of what’s more important. I’ve already shrugged off the responsibility of work. But maybe it’s not such a powerful statement because it isn’t really work. It involves work, but it’s more play than work. I’ve found that my time is an invaluable resource, and sometimes I just need to throw everything else aside and sit. Allow myself to stop and think. Have a snack, let my body cool down, and let my brain breathe. No more pushing. No more trying to get one last thing done. Overworked? Maybe a little bit. But I’m in college. That’s how life goes. Maybe it’s just a night of moving a little too fast. A busy radio show with a live in-studio appearance that I had to host by myself, a quick English majors career enrichment thingy, a girl friend that desperately needed a nap. It makes for a trying evening. Sometimes you just have to wonder when all the things you do for fun become time sinks, and you just can’t seem to do everything to its fullest potential. But what can you drop? One has future potential, one pays my grocery bill, one is downright fun. Or am I just in a state of shriveled thought, my brain too weak to handle the day’s juggling pattern.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder. The life of a prophet is so very difficult. You see the dangers around you, and cry out for everyone to steer clear. But sometimes sheer laziness drives you straight toward the very thing you cry out against. Laziness and a lack of time, you just can’t put the necessary time into everything. Does it always have to be an eternal juggling act? Looking ahead to the next break to get caught up? Or have I just backed myself into a corner?
And I can’t help thinking ahead. My entry into the real world isn’t as far off as I imagined it to be, and I’m having to force myself to accept the reality. Where am I going to work? What do I want to do? Where does God want me? So many questions to ask, and I just want so sit down and relax. Can’t I just do what I love to do and all will be taken care of? Can’t I write the great American novel and everything will be okay? But it just isn’t that simple. There’s bills to pay and loans overhead and all the rest.
Lord, I’ve wrapped myself up in this ball of commitment and circumstance. Is there anyway to release the tension? My mind echoes that I’m all right, but I know it’s just not true. I’m not all right. My mind is swimming in a pool stuff to do, and I just can’t stay afloat. Something has to give somewhere, and I think right now the late night ramblings are taking a deep and scattered wound.
Is all of life like this, Lord? So much you want to accomplish, but only so many hours in the day? And only so many hours in the next day, and so many of them crammed full. I just want to throw my arms up in the air and leave the zoo. Leave the rat race behind and enter into a new life of new possibilities where the old, choking commitments can fall away. Is such a dream possible? A time when I could explore the dreams that keep me awake at night. A time when I could read a book for fun, or write one for that matter. A time when I could explore the ideas in my head that really need the time of day to come to light. I just don’t know, Lord. I’ve rejected so much of what I’ve been taught–or so I like to think. But really I’ve hardly rejected anything. I busy myself just like the rest and you wonder how I even keep it together. But somehow it stays together, this critical mass of responsibilities, awaiting a chain reaction that will blow up in a ball of blown promises. But it hasn’t exploded yet, and it all seems to stay together. I just don’t understand sometimes what I’m supposed to do? Release the pressure and bring the axe down on something I love? Or manage my time and keep the juggling act going. I’m just waiting for you to pluck the balls from the air and keep me from dropping more than I can handle.
See what happens when you sit yourself down in front of the computer at midnight? Next thing you know you’re getting a worried call from your forty-something mother who doesn’t understand why you won’t share with her all your burdens. Some things you have to learn yourself. Like when to shut up.