slow burn

I have so much to write about these days . . . but find myself unable to put words to my thoughts; or make stories out of my daily adventures.  So I’ve settled for pictures of grandbabies and chickens–which are still pretty fabulous in my book.  Much less energy and effort expended than trying to write something of substance.

It has begun to dawn on me that I might be a tad burned out.  I’m not even sure what that means–I don’t think I’ve ever applied that term to myself before.  My husband, yes.  But not me.  And I have no idea what to do about it.

I’ve been involved in some kind of ministry since about 1975, the year I went off to Bible college.  I traveled with singing groups, taught Sunday school and shared my testimony often during the college years.  I married Greg in 1977 and have been a “ministry wife” in some capacity ever since.  I’ve taught aerobics (to Christian music, of course), led Bible studies, done counseling and marriage mentoring, spoken at various church events–and even preached a sermon or two!  I’ve led mission trips, hosted missionaries, hosted Life Groups and a gazillion different meetings in our home.  I’ve visited the sick, prayed with the dying and cried with the bereaved.  I’ve written articles for Christian magazines, recruited for mission organizations, led youth and college groups and assisted special needs children during church functions.  I’ve co-taught marriage/family seminars with my husband, published a series of children’s books about spiritual issues, led a hiking ministry and served the poor and the refugees in my community.  I’ve started homeschool co-ops, prayer groups and clothes closets –that’s all I can remember right now . . .

Not bragging–or complaining–I wouldn’t change a thing if I could.  Because I homeschooled my girls, I felt like I always had a good balance between church ministry and my family.  Because Greg and I made a choice early on to put our marriage above church work, we’ve stayed strong through these many years of ministry.  It really has been a privilege to serve the Kingdom as a family . . .

But lately, I find myself dragging my feet to do the things that once energized me.  I am tired–kind of soul-weary, I suppose.  (I feel thin, like butter spread over too much bread–Bilbo Baggins)  Part of my problem might be the fact that my view of the Church has changed drastically over the years . . . and some days it feels  more like I am serving an institution than the living, breathing Body of Christ.  Some days I wonder–if there weren’t so many church meetings, would I have more time to love on my neighbors or adopt a refugee family?  Would I be more freed up to follow the Spirit’s leading than feeling obligated to meet expectations?

I don’t know . . . I haven’t been down this road before.   I am trying to keep my eyes on Jesus, leaning on His grace and love to sustain me.  Waiting expectantly for a season of refreshing in our lives . . .

In the meantime, I’ll probably keep posting about babies and chickens

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