This was a month of recovery.
I had what was probably the best vacation I’ve ever taken in the middle of the month. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed that a holiday should be- restful, relaxing, restorative.
What makes a vacation a vacation? How do you separate out work from relaxation when the people you work with are also the people you play with?
I don’t know. But this felt about right.
I’ve discovered that if I want to have a proper holiday, I need to get away. Leave my flat, leave the city, leave the country, find a cheap flight to somewhere - anywhere - where I don’t have to answer the door, my phone, or emails. Detach from one world, and allow myself space and time to reattach to my self, to my surroundings, and to God. If I don’t make space and prioritize this time, then I soon find myself drifting through life, never connecting deeply to anyone or anything, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the tyranny of the urgent.
Time to slow down. Breathe deeply. Sleep, Read, Repeat. To do exactly what my heart longs for, and nothing else.
I so rarely allow myself the luxury of doing something simply because I want to. Uninfluenced by the desires of others, fueled only out of my awareness of the echoing cries of my heart. I can become so attuned to others opinions that it’s possible to lose sight of who my true self actually is.
“Love your neighbor as your self” requires one to love themselves also. If I do a bad job of loving my self, how can I then love my neighbor?
Time in the mountains is always restorative for me. Being outdoors, hiking running walking boarding, exploring and adventuring. As I was sitting on one of my favorite spots on one of my favorite mountains, I asked God a question:
“How come you feel so close and easy to find here, but it’s so difficult to find you when I’m back home in Latvia?”
The answer came quickly, and surprised me:
“You expect to find me here, so you work to find me. Will you put the same effort into finding me where it’s difficult to do so as where it’s easy?”
The time to expend effort is not when the going is easy. It’s when it’s uphill and a struggle.
Walking down a mountain is, in some ways, very easy. Someone who is in poor shape can keep up (to a certain level) with someone in better shape. Of course it’s still work. Legs get tired, knees and back get jolted, you have to keep a careful watch on the path ahead. But it happens, almost whether you’re trying hard or not. You go downhill.
Walking uphill is a different story. Grinding, grunting, gasping, keeping legs pumping while your lungs scream for you to stop; that’s where training, dedication, and community keep you moving.
Where will I work to find God? I find him in the mountains, whether I want to or not. When I dive into a good book and am challenged by new thoughts and ideas, God is easily with me.
But on a Monday morning, early a.m. while the coffee is still brewing; will I look for him then? When I’m feeling lonely and tired and frustrated, will I take a moment to find God then? When I feel like I’m in a spiritual smog and breathing air thick with pollutants, will I seek him then? When the long slow grind of living in another country and culture eats away at my precious reserves of energy and zoe, will I then keep hiking uphill, lungs gasping and legs pumping, searching for God?
Rest is important. Finding times and places where God is easy to find are invaluable. But the mountaintop experiences aren’t meant to be that which I strive towards and for. They arrive, they bless, and then we return to the hazy lowlands.
That’s where I live. That’s where I work.
I’m so thankful for the time of rest that I was privileged to have this month, and for the close and intimate way in which God met with me while I was gone. And I look forward to see how he will fuel my desire to find him in the hazy smog of the daily grind.
