Russell Media - Laurie

Life has been a bit stressful lately. I’ve had to put in some extra work hours due to an advancing deadline. To mentally get myself through it, I told myself last week that I’d take a real Sabbath on Sunday. No work, no email, no computer, nothing. Only rest and play with my family. However, Sunday wasn’t all that restful. I struggled with the desire to do a little work here and there. When I sat down to read, I felt guilty for not working on the project. When I walked past the dirty clothes I felt the urge to do a load. When I saw my computer, I wanted to work on my inbox. My body and heart wanted to relax but my mind kept interrupting my peace. My inability to take a day off to relax kind of, uh, stressed me out.

I finally gave in at the end of the night and allowed myself to do “leisure work” on the computer. It was when I read a comment left by Adam on my Loggerhead, Lights and Landmark post, I was reminded of a lesson we learned in Germany. Adam left some great insight regarding rest on my Conversant Life blog -  as well as a link to the article (http://fulleryouthinstitute.org/2010/05/in-season/). So, I figure this was God’s way of showing me where to begin my Culture Clash series. So Germany it is…

Mark and I lived in Munich, Germany for three years as missionaries and worked mainly with young professionals. It holds a special place in my heart because it is where I primarily learned how to be a mommy. Noah had just turned one and Anastasia was born six months after our arrival. I was away from family and friends and all the advice they could give me, so I watched the German women and copied them.

Before each train ride, the German moms bought fresh pretzels for their kids. So, I did the same each day as we boarded the train to language school. They walked their kids in strollers in all kinds of weather.  So I, ahem, tried to do the same (when it wasn’t too cold). They spent hours in parks and rode bikes everywhere. So, we bought a trailer for our bikes and did our best not wipe anyone out on our family bike rides. (Warning: it’s wise not to do this after a visit to the Bier Garten).

I really miss it – but it wasn’t always easy.

There is a system for most everything and most everyone follows it. Until we learned and followed the routines correctly, we had a good many people let us know “strongly” when we had messed up the system. Each day in language school we’d recite the incident to our language instructors and they’d laugh and fill us in on what we did wrong. Once we learned all of the rules, life became quite nice and orderly and we actually enjoyed the laws of the land. Well…there was one that took us a bit longer to get.

Germans work hard but they play hard too. We loved that about them. You never had to feel guilty about taking and enjoying your time off – you had earned it.

However, we lived in the Bavaria region. At this time, there were quiet hours during each weekday and on Sunday, the whole day was quiet hours and you were expected to be quiet. What?! We are loud Americans, how can we do that?

During these quiet hours no loud work was allowed that would be considered noise pollution – i.e. cutting grass, working on cars, vacuuming your sidewalk (just checking to see if you’re paying attention.) Almost every store was closed with the exception of the bread store for a few hours in the morning, gas stations and some restaurants.

At first the quiet hours drove me crazy. In the past, Sundays were my “catch-up” days. I used the “free-time” to prepare for the week ahead and get a jump-start on my “to-do” list. This put a huge kink in my system. (Unfortunately my German wasn’t good enough to let them strongly know it).

The first few weeks we suffered. I always forgot to get enough food to get us through the weekend (grocery stores closed at noon on Saturday) – so we had to eat out or went to a gas station to buy milk. But little by little I learned the system and before long we were pros.

Once I detoxed from my irritation I noticed something. Sundays were peaceful. I didn’t feel the need to run errands because there was nowhere to go. I didn’t feel guilty for not cutting grass or vacuuming because I wasn’t allowed to. It was quiet outside and it lured us out of the house and into parks and family strolls. The lack of noise was…calming. It was healing. We didn’t feel stressed. We felt…rested.

Not only was this good for my body and mind, it was good for my soul. I communed with God. The same way you can see your reflection better in still water, you can hear God’s voice when you body and mind are quiet.

God created us to work but He also knew we’d need rest and time to play.

Our German friends and family modeled this for us. When they worked, whether at home or in the office, they gave 100%. However, they didn’t neglect the play or the rest.

This Sunday…I’m trying it again. With a new purposed. So my friends, my German advice to you is – Work hard, play hard and rest well (and don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for doing so!)

Does anyone else struggle with me in taking a true Sabbath?

Any advice for those of us who do?

I work from home most days. It’s really nice, especially since the lack of a commute saves me time and money. One morning I knew I wasn’t going to see anyone else until late afternoon. The kids were at school, Mark was at the office so I decided to save even more time and go with the “natural” look. I skipped my daily routine of putting on make-up. In a hurry to take advantage of my extra time, I jumped right into work.

About an hour after I started, the doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw it was our delivery guy in search of a signature. When I opened the door he looked at me and seemed thrown off a bit, “Oh, you’re home. I sure hope I didn’t wake you.”

Hmmm…why did he say that? I didn’t delay in answering the door. It was almost 10:00 a.m. on a weekday. Why would he think I’d still be in bed?

As I returned to my desk, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I stopped. I knew. My face, which is normally covered with beauty products, was completely bare. My imperfections glared. My eyes seemed smaller, my nose looked bigger and my hair was definitely nappier. I looked more like a woman fresh out of bed rather than one fresh for the day.

The rest of the morning was spent with me obsessing over my lack of “natural” beauty.

I have a love/hate relationship with beauty. The old saying tells us that “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,” but if this is true, why do I feel enslaved to it? Maybe it’s our present definition of it. Why do I feel the need for my body to be a certain size and my hair to not be a certain color? Why is it that I can I find beauty on the TV but not in the mirror? Something is wrong.

Perhaps part of the problem is our culture’s misconstrued definition of beauty. Dictionaries define beauty as something that that brings great pleasure to the senses or blesses the mind. I like this – it’s quite nice. According to this definition, beauty can be found basically anywhere. But if my skin is not a certain color or my jeans a particular size, I feel ugly.

I did an informal word search in a Bible program on the words “beauty” and “beautiful.” There I noticed two things. With the exception of the books of Esther and Song of Solomon, these two words were generally used to describe God or part of his creation and the other warned us of the dangers of depending on our own beauty or man-made beauty.

Again, this was an informal study but it appears that God knew that our obsession for beauty would take our eyes off of Him and what He has given us, and then place it on ourselves. We like beauty. We want it and will do what it takes to have it. In the process we lose sweet communion with God.

I personally don’t see harm in trying to improve my appearance but when it causes my focus to leave God and then fixate it on myself, I’m in insecure territory. I see all that I’m not. However, when my eyes are on God and all who He is, I see all that I am in Him. I see true beauty – one that blesses the mind and brings true pleasure. I’m filled with peace instead of anxiety. And to me, that sounds beautiful.

For now, I’ll continue to wear make-up most days but I’m won’t worry if others do a double take and wonder if I’ve been sick due to my small eyes. I may never see the natural color of my hair again. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I actually remember it. Either way, when the gray makes its way through I’ll see it as a reminder that God has given me some great years and memories…and hopefully some wisdom learned along the way.

How about you? Does our culture’s definition of beauty haunt you? Any insight on how you deal with it? How are raising your children to deal with it?