Microwaves and naps

On this eve of a published piece, I feel like congealed soup. Masses of starch and protein glued together in a vitamin-rich goo. Pop off the top, take a whiff fresh out of the fridge, and the desire to vomit sets in.

Microwave, Stir.

Thirty more seconds to be dinner worthy.

Stir.

And you know what? We are pretty close to edible. In fact, it tastes better the next day.

I haven’t gotten to that point.

As this week progressed I’ve been in a perpetual and worsening state of stagnation. A lot of ups and downs, sloshing of the bowl, in this small bite within the whole feast of life.

Kids, writing, school, work made me tired to the bone.

“Take a nap before small group,” he said. I never feel good after naps. I wake multiple times with semi-urgent thoughts or the dread of being late. Always. My brain shouts that this is the wrong time to sleep, so as a safety measure, it amplifies sounds and light. Always. The only time naps work is if I am disgustingly sick. When my body is as close to full-stop as God allows.

Sabbaticals are hard to enforce but harder to embrace.

I woke up piecing together life from where I left off. Mental fuzz and the appearance of every minuscule form of counterproductivity caused me to shuffle to and fro.

The nap was supposed to be my microwaving, my melting and warming and softening — the homogenizing of this ridiculous week into a decent dish to the gathering.

And no one showed up for small group.

I really don’t have a happy ending or a beautiful bow to this story to show a lesson learned. I’m literally eating a bowl of cereal in my bed for a very late dinner.

I will eat a second bowl that I’ll regret later. Wash up and ready myself for bed. Wake up early for quiet time on the loveseat with my little lamp politely stirring the small hours of spirit and soul.

Then with the three kids, I will mend, prepare, guide, equip, laugh, joke, warn, question, answer, glean.

At work, I repeat.

Back at home, I three-peat.

I will try to find time to read for school and sift through resources to craft an outline for a paper.

At that point tomorrow evening, I will be well seasoned and stirred. I will rest in marination to present myself for the next course in the banquet.