Easter Island

This morning for Easter I awoke to early typhoon season giant rain. Being from Chicago, I find the rain cheering, but it put a damper on plans as one friend I was planning to spend Easter with texted to say she was too sick (meaning hung over) and the other didn't want to venture out in the rain (she lives 3 min from church). Feeling defeated at the prospect of church alone, I packed up my chocolate bunnies intended for friends,  added my rain boots to my little nightie, and threw on a rain jacket sure I would see no one at 0830 during a storm. I was going chocolate bunny delivering to neighbors' doors to add an element of mystery and creepiness to their lives since I wouldn't see friends. As soon as I stepped outside, I discovered three guys next door out smoking. I pretended not to see them and continued on to my friend Brett's. No sooner had I bent to leave a bunny, than the door swung out, scared the bejeezus out of me, and Brett stepped out with his dog.

He was up early and planned to go to Easter service with me. He is Jewish. He doesn't do church. But he was up and looking sharp because he thought it was important to me. He gamely sat out the hymns and bad sermon without complaint.

Then my favorite hedonist told me he was making me dinner and even humoring me by including vegetables. He doesn't eat vegetables. This because Easter is important to me.

So this has been a dry season for me with girlfriend and with Christian friends. But when I'm about to lose heart, these two guys show up and save the day. They are the ones who helped me move. They are the ones who came over to drink vodka and smoke with me when they diagnosed that my "give a damn was broken."

It's God in His infinite weirdness resurrecting things that actually need it.

Rest

I've never been that comfortable with rest. Growing up with Southern Baptist parents, I was strong-armed into it on Sundays growing up. Rest become synonymous with ideas of "bed rest" which pretty much means house arrest.  I realized I had the issue when my small group looked at Psalm 23.  Being made to lie down near still waters would never be my vacation agenda. I prefer motion and excitement and change.

Unfortunately, I now having a running injury and the sucky Air Force doctor recommends rest. That seems like a terrible idea in the Army, and I think he doesn't understand the importance of running for my career. But the pain is forcing me to rest anyway. Further, I feel like I'm in social rest mode. Boyfriend PCSed, best playmate is about to leave the island, and I feel completely uninspired to hang out with anyone else. I'm resting socially and surrounding myself with books and my imaginary friendships with Miranda, Carrie, Charlotte, and Samantha. And I'm missing the diversion of long runs.

A goal for me this year has been training to try for a female cultural support team. I know I can't go to selection with an injury. So it's forced rest. And this means resting my body and my goals. I'm waiting for another goal to occur to me, but in my meantime I'm being made to lie down and hoping restoration feels like a life improvement instead of a band aid.