Gentle reminders to rest are much more agreeable than forceful reminders.
Towards the end of December 2019 I was furiously working to complete a car purchase from a friend who was migrating by the end of the year. I spent a few hours at the tax office completing the transfer. The lines were horrendous, and they closed the office while several of us were still inside waiting to get through. The queues of people packed into the small space (pre-Covid) made me light-headed. My chest began to ache from stabbing pains. My chest and lungs felt constricted and I struggled for each breath. I was horrified at the prospect of fainting but that was the struggle I was in for the duration of my errand. At one point when I felt close to losing the fight for consciousness, I asked a stranger to hold my space in the line and begged one of the security guards to allow me to sit in the elderly/disabled section until it was my turn.
When I eventually left the tax office, I was convinced that I needed to schedule some rest. Rest was coming in a few weeks - I was going to visit my sister and her family - so I kept my pace and continued to struggle through the frequent lapses into lethargy, light-headedness and chest pains that followed that experience.
On January 13, 2020, I flew from Kingston to California. As I was traveling I suffered severe chest pain that was only alleviated by unclasping my bra and sitting forward. Shortness of breath left me dizzy and dazed. I sent out an SOS, asking for prayer, then struggled through each stage of my journey, staying away from any movies that were too exciting, and eventually got to California without fainting or otherwise embarrassing myself.
My plans for that trip had been to fill it with restful activity, and even to go see another sister for a few days before returning home. Instead, I spent the entire trip in California sick - in and out of the emergency room at Ridgecrest Regional Hospital.
My body’s demand for rest resulted in uncontrollable spasms and chest pains that increased in intensity unless I was flat on my back or curled up in the fetal position. Eventually I couldn't even walk by myself and had to be helped to and from the bathroom. My sister had to feed and bathe me because I could not manage the tasks by myself. My mother had to fly to California to help me fly home. I was ushered through the airport in a wheelchair. When I got home, I was on bed rest for weeks after and wasn’t able to return to the ‘comfort’ of work.
Gentle reminders to rest are much more agreeable than forceful reminders.
Last week a close friend reminded me that part of the reason why I left Jamaica was to rest. I had been whining and complaining about how useless I was feeling because I was stuck in Brazil and still didn’t have a job, nor could I do anything else about trying to sell my car. I was busy worrying about what people may be thinking about me.
Her admonishment to me was firm but gentle compared to my January 2020 experience. She reminded me that God wanted me to rest and I needed to stop trying to provide for myself and let Him. She told me that this break wouldn’t last forever, and God forbid I returned to Jamaica still exhausted because I didn’t take the opportunity that God had provided to rest. God forbid I become sick again and rest be forced on me, because I was too busy complaining about things I didn’t need to be concerned about and worrying what people thought about me, instead of only caring about what God thought about me and what He was expecting from me.
Her words greatly relieved my mind and though I still have much to learn about what it means to rest, I know that God is more patient with me than I could ever be. In time, with rest, I will learn.
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