I took a chance today and sent my glasses away to get new lenses put in them. I’ve had these frames for a few years now, and it’s possible they could break in the process. But they were not cheap, and I’m rather attached to them. Honestly, they were the only ones that didn’t sit crooked on my face when I first bought them. So, I decided to take the risk and hope for the best.
The woman who waited on me said I would be one to two weeks without my glasses and advised that I buy a cheap pair of readers to tide me over. My distance vision is still pretty good. Thankfully, I don’t need glasses for driving. I do need glasses for reading and doing anything on screens though. So I picked up a three pack of readers at Costco on my way home. I now have one pair in my purse, one next to my reading chair in the sunroom, and one on my nightstand. That should do the trick for the next couple of weeks.
I noticed though when I got home from running errands this morning that even after just a couple of hours without my regular glasses, my eyes were feeling tired and my forehead tight. It’s going to be a long week (or two).
This afternoon I found myself closing my eyes, just for a few seconds, whenever I could. It’s reminding me of my grandmother. When I was a child, I would see her sitting in her rocking chair at midday, with her eyes closed, and I’d ask, “Gram, are you sleeping?”
“Oh, no, dear,” she would say. “I’m just resting my eyes.”
Inwardly, I would think, “Yeah, sure, Gram. You can’t fool me. You’re probably just saying that. I know you’re trying to have a nap.”
Now, here I am, sitting in my own chair, realizing that “resting my eyes” is actually a thing…especially as those eyes (and I) age.
My childish perspective was so sure that her expression was a euphemism for napping. In reality, all she needed was to rest her eyes — rest them from reading tiny print in recipe books, rest them from deciphering stitches in knitting patterns, rest them from watching busy grandkids.
I once worked with someone who was adept at burning the candle at both ends. Their self-proclaimed aim in life was to burn out for Jesus. I admired their passion, but even as a young adult, I wondered about the wisdom of such a goal. My walk with Jesus has followed a less dramatic path. I’m more of a plodder than a sprinter.
Divergent notions regarding rest could be the natural bent of different personalities, but I don’t think rest necessarily comes easily to any of us. Plodder that I am, I still find it difficult to listen and obey when Jesus draws me aside to rest. The older I get, however, the more I am beginning to understand my need for it. Even when others might read selfishness into my rest, I am learning the importance of listening to my body and its physical limitations.
Can we “sabbath” selfishly? Of course! But I think we all too often start with the faulty premise that rest itself is somehow selfish. It’s not. We can rest selfishly; but rest is not selfish. That is a hugely important distinction to make. Our need for rest is a reality. It’s a reality of our limits as created beings.
Let’s resist the temptation to feel better about ourselves by ignoring our own need for rest. Likewise, let’s resist the temptation to read something sinister or selfish into someone else’s need for rest. Like my grandmother resting her eyes, sometimes rest is just rest — much-needed rest.
“It is useless for you to work so hard from early morning until late at night, anxiously working for food to eat; for God gives rest to his loved ones.” (Psalm 127:2 NLT)
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