We all get there.  That place where we are at the edge of our capacity.  It may be from one persistent circumstance or a plethora gathering to the point of chaos.

I found myself there this past week- in desperate need to have some space to breathe and let my feelings, barely held in check, just go.  I needed to breathe and cry and laugh and love and sleep and feel.

It was all the normal things of life– but many of them in a very short time; deaths, illnesses, relationship woes, work “stuff”, etc.  You know the things I mean, and all gathering in a way I began to wonder if I might get a chance to come up for air, let alone to process the feelings.  And boy-howdy, were there feelings.  But the world and chaos don’t give us time to feel.  So we cram the feelings into dark hidey-holes and push on. 

As a Lutheran (flavor of Christian), I practice Lent, a time to remember what it is to be like Jesus and take some time in the wilderness, letting all the excess go- ALL OF IT; the extra food and people and feelings and expectations.  So when I ran to the desert this past weekend seeking respite and a little joy, I wondered if maybe Lent is not as much about running away or giving something up that we really like.  Maybe it is also about respite- giving up the things that drag us apart from God and wholeness.  To be holy is to be set apart.  To need respite is to be set apart.  Maybe the two are more interconnected than we realize.

Life keeps going.  That is the joy of this ride we are on.  The trick is to find the time to be and remain holy- to be set apart from the stuff of life that separates us from God and leaves us feeling tattered and wiped out.  To find respite.