responsibility sucks

Yeah, I know. I'm all grown up and married and stuff, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it all of the time. Take last night as a classic example. My greatest ambition for last night involved putting my jeans on so Scott could take me to Freebirds for a burrito since I didn't have the energy to cook.

This last weekend was our department retreat which I organized and helped execute, and it went well. The topic was on work ethics, and doing everything as unto the Lord - even when you hate your job. So, I don't hate my job, but sometimes I do hate responsibility. I find it excruciatingly difficult at times just to drag myself out of bed, clothe my body, and get to work. And then when I get home at night... who wants to do more? Hmmm....

So this really isn't a gripe session, but merely a voicing of what I've been pondering for the past few days since the retreat. How does one "work as if unto the Lord" when one has no desire to do anything? I'm not saying this is an all the time deal for me, but it is frequent.

I know that the Lord is worshipped even when we are at rest, but sometimes I wonder (and I will send this out into the void, I suppose), where is the line between slothfulness and truly resting as unto the Lord?

recovering workaholic

There is something greatly different about this fall. I got married. Now I know all of you are like, "Duh! We were there and half of us were in the wedding. We know already!" - but wait. I don't mean I was the bride in a wedding, we all know that. What I am talking about is in the marked and almost immediate difference that I discovered in myself come the busyness of the fall work schedule at the office.

I used to be single. Although I was consumed in the off hours with studying and finishing up that M.A. (BTW - I find it ironic that the diploma I worked so hard for is now sitting on top of a stack of bill stubs that need to be filed in the corner of our guest room... hmmm), I was single. I worked constantly, in fact, just about anyone who knew me very well at all could describe me as a workaholic. My boss used to have to tell me to go home. I would work, and work some more, and then go home to my empty apartment, eat a bowl of cereal, and watch Nick-at-Night while I wrote a paper. And then I'd get up the next morning to do it again. ("Hi, I'm Bonnie. {hi bonnie} I'm a workaholic. My last email was 2 hours and 13 minutes ago...")

This pattern was especially obvious this time of year, when we have a Fall Retreat this weekend and a bunch of stuff going down in the assimilation department and I'm starting to see the list of responsibilities reach all the way to the floor. But I'm different this year than I ever have been. I walk whistling out the door at 5:05 most nights while my coworkers stare after me in shock. I go home to my sweet husband, share dinner with him, and lay on the couch with my head in his lap while we talk about our days or watch TV. I leave things behind me at work that need to get done and do them the following day, or I just tell people that I can't because I need to spend time with my husband.

I realize that this is an ironic post for today, considering that I was here in the office until 8:30 last night, but that is the exception, not the norm. In fact, I can't remember the last time that I worked past 6pm. I think it's very interesting to watch how God works within us, changing our priorities and putting His things first. It's amazing, I never thought I would be able to say this but...

Sorry people. You'll have to give it to somebody else to get done. The workaholic has gone home.

peppermint tea and toilet paper...

Not only is this not my typical ramblings of a theological, thoughtful sense that you have come to expect from my blog, but I also have my own break today as I sit at home nursing the effects of a bad sinus infection on my body.

So here I sit, it's pouring down rain outside my windown as I'm propped up on the couch with the pillows from our bed, watching old sitcom reruns with a roll of toilet paper (we're out of kleenex) at my right hand and a cup of hot peppermint tea at my left.

Sick days are terrible and wonderful, all at the same time. Too bad we can't have sick days when we're well!