As I sit with my head laid upon my desk and my eyes closed, I wonder, ‘Do I remember reading that ostriches don’t, in fact, bury their heads in the sand, but rather lay their heads upon the comforting earth, close their eyes, and let the world slip by?’
Because really, I can relate to both.
I can relate to the ostrich-head-resting feeling that I’d rather the details of the world pass me by. That if I could just rest a minute, maybe all the things in life will sort themselves out, will make sense.
That the buzzing around me will still once it sees me playing dead, or at least, dormant for just a little while.
Maybe ostriches are just the ultimate procrastinators. Seeing the needs around them, to feed, protect, sustain, they just want a self-imposed time out.
I get that. Anyone else?
When your to do list meets the internal response of a resounding “NOPE, NOPE, NOPE”. And the feeling that I’d rather be doing anything/be anywhere but.
Yep. That feeling.
We all get to those places every now and again. Where it feels better to hide in the bathroom for just 10 minutes rather than have to go out there and adult.
And sometimes those 10 minutes fix the flight instinct that soars within us as our inner toddler says “I don’t wanna!”
I’ve had those toddler conversations with God. Where I tell him all the stuff that falls on my head and in my lap. I tell him that I don’t want to and he should make somebody else do it.
Boy am I glad that God already knows my impulses before I even voice them. Because I really would be much more embarrassed if he weren’t all-knowing.
Those few minutes of peace, telling him what’s going on, feeling him rest his hand on my resting head, seem to sort me out.
But then there’s the times when my head’s buried.
When the weight of the world and life’s tragedies seem less mosquito and more mountain lion.
When I’ve been hit so hard with responsibility, grief, or change that I can’t seem to muster myself out of the sand covering my head and heart.
Those situations are more than a 10 minute fix.
They’re more than a grumbling prayer and straightened spine,
Sometimes the digging out is from a place so deep that we can’t even hear the voice of God through our muffled hearts.
Because we are piled under the weight of burden so deep that the more we try to dig, the more seems to flow in.
I’ve been there too.
And it’s hard. We don’t know what to pray, how to help, what to ask for.
We don’t know how to find our way out and feel hopeless and stuck and stunned.
So sometimes we hide. And we wait for it to get better.
Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along.
If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.
He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God.
That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. Romans 8:26-28 MSG
If I’m told that the hard things I’m going through are worked for good, it can make me want to shriek and hurl things and people in all directions.
Because I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to turn this mud into a masterpiece. I just can’t do it.
But then I remember that during these hard times it’s in God’s hands.
Remember that He’s the one lifting my heart and thoughts to a place where He and I intersect.
That in this intersection of relationship where He’s all-seeing and all-loving, I can remember and release to him.
And know that through His work and His brooding care, not by my own mechanizations or strength, things can be worked for good.