The Summer of Nothing. And Everything.

Remember that question teachers used to ask on the first day back at school?

What did you do on your summer vacation? 

I stopped asking that question years ago, too aware of the inequities among my students that allowed some to go to horseback riding camp at the country club and take cruises to Bermuda, while others needed to work a part-time job and babysit younger siblings. I also stopped asking because my own summers were usually rift with negative things: hospital stays, ER visits, complex surgeries, teaching summer classes, and the exhaustion that came from caring for a chronically ill spouse.

Nothing I wanted to share.

At our first back-to-school PD of 2019, the leader asked that question. I declined to answer. If I had, it would have been one sentence.

I buried my husband.

The weeks following Ron's passing were filled the complexities of a death. I had forms to fill out, finances to juggle, and an autistic son who did not understand the finality of his dad leaving. Then school started back up in September and Allen and I were figuring out our new normal when the pandemic forced us all into a virtual reality. Life was busy, busy, busy.

This summer, though, has been different. The What did you do on your summer vacation? question is one I would be happy to answer.

Nothing.

And in doing nothing, I did everything.

We Americans are oddly proud of our ability to work 60+ hours a week, eschewing our paid vacation days, and working at home on the weekends. Typically, we work 30-90 minutes a day more than our European counterparts. We wear our exhaustion like badges of honor. For all of our work ethic, though, we are only 5th for productivity among the developed countries. Know who's first?

Luxembourg. Tiny little Luxembourg. 

This little Grand Duchy in Europe is only 998 square miles but ranks as the most productive country in the world. They have a 29 hour work week, get 25 paid vacation days, and 10 national holidays. Except for the travel industry, there is no work on Sunday. And everyone in the country speaks three languages: French, German, and English.

Clearly, we've got this wrong.

The Italians have a similar concept when it comes to work/life balance. La Dolce far Niente, the "sweetness of doing nothing", is a sharp contrast to our American expression of "I can sleep when I die." Not to rain on your plans or anything, but when I get to Heaven I plan on doing much more than sleeping. I want to enjoy those streets paved with gold, visit loved ones, and eat a hot fudge sundae without counting the calories.

I Corinthians 10:31 tells us "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." (ESV). The Apostle Paul provides some motivating factors for his words in 1 Corinthians 6:12, but the basic point is this: Do it all for the glory of God. All of it. Is working ourselves into a frazzle pleasing God? Is it forwarding His kingdom? Or are we serving ourselves and our bottom lines?

When June 12th and summer finally rolled around, I needed a serious rest. Learning to teach high school students English as a Second Language on line and coping with the first year of widowhood following years of caring for an ill husband left me beyond exhausted. I felt like the limp wet noodle my grandmother--God bless her--would threaten to smack me with. We were still in the throes of the pandemic so a long vacation was not in the plans.

So I sat. On my back deck. In my living room. In the chair out front. I napped in the afternoon, and took evening walks to the river. Every Tuesday, my son and I went on a field trip to an open area: national parks, beaches, wildlife preserves. We played games and watched movies. For the first time in a very, very long time, I found myself feeling well-rested. I found myself reconnecting with myself. With my own spirit. With God.

I'd planned on doing a deep Bible study on the attributes of Mary during the summer. I even bought the book. But more often than not, I just found myself sitting outside with a second cup of tea, admiring my newly planted garden, and listening to the sounds of the morning. For the first time in decades, I became attuned to the still, small voice of God. I realized that my life did not have to be about activity 24/7. 

Susan Smalley, PhD, Professor Emeritus at the UCLA Department of Psychiatry, says, “Science is starting to show the value of spending time in silence, in nature, and in not engaging in constant external stimulation. We need time doing ‘nothing’ to be our best selves: well-rounded and creative human beings. The ‘doing’ side of our nature needs a ‘being’ side to be in balance.”

There is something in our brains that scientists call the Default Mode Network (DMN). When we are quiet with ourselves, this amazing network allows us to see patterns in new ways, to problem-solve, and to come up with creative ways to engage with the world. So, in doing nothing, at least for a short while, we are really doing everything.

This summer, I did everything. While I did nothing. I in no way regret the time I spent caring my my chronically ill husband. I'd give him another 19 years in a heart-beat. 

Let's face it, friends. God as the Creator of all Things did not NEED to rest on that 7th day. He did it for our sake, as a model for us frail humans to follow. He did it so that we might recover from the sweat of our brow and the carpel tunnel syndrome in our wrists. 

We've sort of blown it. But it's not too late.

I did nothing this summer. But I also did everything. And even as school starts again and my time is divided into 45 minute segments, I want to continue to build into my schedule this all-important, life-altering practice. I'm getting pretty good at it, but as with any art, I need more practice.

In the fine art of doing nothing.