I'm used to pushing myself to the max physically speaking. I'm an athlete by nature, so rest is for the weak. No joke. When I ran cross country in high school, I would tell myself I could run just a little bit farther. When I was tasked to clear the parking lot of carts at my job, I always volunteered to stay out there for the remainder of my shift because I had stamina (and working the register was boring).
Fast forward to my late teens/early twenties when I began to develop some physical problems. When I was 22, the doctor told me I had the joints of a 45-year-old. A few years later and I'm just not able to work with the same vigor I'm so used to. While I still value physical labor, I'm realizing that my body has forced me to slow down, most likely because I pushed myself too hard. It's a frustrating thing.
Today marks 33 weeks of my first pregnancy. I spent the entirety of yesterday painting half of my baby's room. You read that correctly: half! My palms and wrists were so worn out by the end of the day that I could barely chop veggies for dinner. This morning I was in so much physical pain it was hard to climb out of bed. I want so badly to finish the painting project today, but my body is screaming at me to have mercy and rest.
I'm not saying these things to garner sympathy. I'm merely realizing the necessity of grace. I have developed more grace for the people in my past who I thought were just making excuses and being lazy. Some of them might have been, but I'm beginning to understand that there may have been more legitimacy to their need for rest than I was giving them credit for.
I'm realizing the need to give myself grace. I've always held myself to a strict standard when it comes to life. If you're going to work, give it your all! If you're going to play, give it your all! I'm an all or nothing sort of person. It's hard to accept the fact that "my all" now is not as much as it used to be.
And maybe I need to have grace with myself for growing another human being. I haven't let pregnancy slow me down too much until now. Now I'm coming to accept that the closer I draw to my due date and the bigger my baby grows inside of me, the more tired I'm probably going to be. And that's ok. While I may begin to fall behind on my household duties, I am nurturing a tiny human being who fully depends upon me for survival. That requires rest.
Rest is hard for me.
Grace is important. Rest is important.
I'm learning a lot about both.
Fast forward to my late teens/early twenties when I began to develop some physical problems. When I was 22, the doctor told me I had the joints of a 45-year-old. A few years later and I'm just not able to work with the same vigor I'm so used to. While I still value physical labor, I'm realizing that my body has forced me to slow down, most likely because I pushed myself too hard. It's a frustrating thing.
Today marks 33 weeks of my first pregnancy. I spent the entirety of yesterday painting half of my baby's room. You read that correctly: half! My palms and wrists were so worn out by the end of the day that I could barely chop veggies for dinner. This morning I was in so much physical pain it was hard to climb out of bed. I want so badly to finish the painting project today, but my body is screaming at me to have mercy and rest.
I'm not saying these things to garner sympathy. I'm merely realizing the necessity of grace. I have developed more grace for the people in my past who I thought were just making excuses and being lazy. Some of them might have been, but I'm beginning to understand that there may have been more legitimacy to their need for rest than I was giving them credit for.
I'm realizing the need to give myself grace. I've always held myself to a strict standard when it comes to life. If you're going to work, give it your all! If you're going to play, give it your all! I'm an all or nothing sort of person. It's hard to accept the fact that "my all" now is not as much as it used to be.
And maybe I need to have grace with myself for growing another human being. I haven't let pregnancy slow me down too much until now. Now I'm coming to accept that the closer I draw to my due date and the bigger my baby grows inside of me, the more tired I'm probably going to be. And that's ok. While I may begin to fall behind on my household duties, I am nurturing a tiny human being who fully depends upon me for survival. That requires rest.
Rest is hard for me.
Grace is important. Rest is important.
I'm learning a lot about both.
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