I feel that I have been so busy recently I can barely focus on getting anything done – even coming to write this has seemed a mammoth effort. Its cyclical – I have a hard day at work, am occupied in the evening by something to do with church or the wedding and end up going to bed late. I get up early and begin the cycle again, more tired than the day before. By the weekend I feel like melting in a heap and not moving. I speak often of being too busy but never seem to resolve the issue. Sometimes it feels as if I’m coming away at the seams.
AutumnThe leaves are falling, falling as if from far up,
as if orchards were dying high in space.
Each leaf falls as if it were motioning “no.”
And tonight the heavy earth is falling
away from all other stars in the loneliness.
We’re all falling. This hand here is falling.
And look at the other one. It’s in them all.
And yet there is Someone, whose hands
infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.
Rainer Maria Rilke
We went to see the History Boys by Alan Bennett at the Alhambra on Saturday and one of the lines of the play stuck in my head ‘Literature is consolation’. After reading this post on The Sacred Art of Living about Lectio Divina, I sat down and read through ‘Autumn’ and the poet’s words not only consoled me but God spoke to me through them. I know I do not suffer as many do on this earth but God understands and cares for me even amongst my anxiety with the trivial frippery of wedding arrangements. He sees the frail leaves of my life falling; stress at work with difficult characters, the delicate balancing act of family expectations, someone close who is in prison (whom I ache and grieve for because they are going through hard times), the general fatigue of being too busy, the lack of time spent with Dave. He sees these fall but all the while He holds me up. He is constant when everything else is unsure.
Psalm 18 v. 2
The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
