I recently started seeing a counselor.
Not for anything specific, really. But for fifteen years in the Horn of Africa. For gritting my teeth and bearing it all these years. For current challenges, for good/hard things, for traumatic events, for heaps upon heaps of sorrow over all the ways the world and her people are broken.
I came in rather skeptical. Not about the particular person I am seeing, and I told her this before we even started, but about the process.
I had all kinds of excuses for why it wouldn’t be helpful.
I waited too long. The years have been too many.
I don’t really need to process any of this, I’ve been fine, I am fine, I’ll be fine. Mostly. Except when I’m not.
No one in the US will understand.
I don’t have the energy to dig around deep.
The specific method won’t be useful for me.
Mostly, I live a beautiful life and I’m thankful for 15 years in the Horn.
I remain skeptical, I think its partly my nature. However. One shining moment (among others) encourages me to press forward.
She gave me a coupon.
Not really, not a paper coupon, but with her words (I think I remember accurately) she even said, COUPON.
It was for rest.
It felt really silly, cliché, gimmicky.
She told me to stop feeling guilty for needing to rest. Of course I need to do work, I still have responsibilities and job requirements to fulfill, but I can easily take an 8-hour work day (on things for the International School of Djibouti, for example, or transcribing and editing an essay) and keep on going into the night. She lightly suggested that the world would not fall apart if I took a nap on a Saturday afternoon.
And so, I found myself at a park on a Saturday afternoon.
I had dropped off my son at university that morning and had a few open hours. I sat down at a picnic table with my laptop. I have several rough drafts of projects that needed editing, activity flyers to design, school documents to create.
I was so tired.
I had dropped off my daughter at university only a few days earlier. My husband and other daughter are back in Africa, while I stay in the US as the twins transition to this foreign country of the US. In many ways, life has turned upside down.
I was so tired.
My computer was warm on my lap and ready for work.
But I was at a park. In Minnesota. In late August.
Behind me, a father and daughter hit softballs and the sharp twang of her bat against the ball spoke everything that is summer. Ants crawled over my sandals. The sun filtered through leaves and danced on the grass like drops of gold.
I was so tired.
All I wanted to do was curl up in the grass and fall asleep.
Just for a little while.
Can people do that here?
Would I be safe?
Would someone approach me? Touch me? Stare at me? Steal from me? Harass me? Kick me out?
I closed my computer and sat down in that green, green grass.
I laid back with the sun now dancing on my cheeks and my backpack a computer-shaped pillow behind my head.
I fell asleep.
Did you feel the world stop? Did anyone notice?
Not a thing.
Not even the father and daughter playing softball noticed.
I dozed for maybe twenty minutes.
And then I woke up.
And the world kept right on spinning. You kept right on living. My work was still there and I had plenty of time to get it done.
So, if you need it, super dorky cheesey and cliché as it is, here’s your coupon. No, I take that back. I know you need it. So when, not if, here’s your coupon.
Print it out. Stick it to the fridge. And when you need to sleep in the grass, or sit at a café and just stare at your lovely cappuccino foam, pull it down and go do it.
I’ll still be here when you get back. The sun will still be shining. Your work will still be waiting.
And you’ll have energy to approach it, a fresh spirit to engage with it, new joy to experience it.
Go and rest.