Ease in the work

Today during yoga class the instructor reminded us to "find the ease in the work".  She ticked off the working groups, "Plant your feet, turn on your legs, straighten your back, pull your shoulders in and down," a checklist of contracting muscles and bones and joints.  With a clear voice she told us to feel our muscles working, then settle into it and find the lightness there.

The funny thing is, I had just read a quote by CS Lewis today that communicated the connection between work and ease.

"The Christian way is different: harder, and easier.  Christ says 'Give me All.  I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You'... Both harder and easier than what we are all trying to do.  You have noticed, I expect, that Christ Himself sometimes describes the Christian way as very hard, sometimes as very easy.  He says, 'Take up your Cross'--in other words, it is like going to be beaten to death in a concentration camp.  Next minute he says, 'My yoke is easy and my burden light.' He means both." 

CS Lewis and my yoga teacher seem to be in cahoots, and when something like this happens I tend to think it is God whispering.  Embrace the work and lean into the grit.  Yesterday at the pool I was chatting with another mom and commenting on how I often tell Josh, "I just want to wake up and make it through the day the way I planned it.  I want everything to work the way it's supposed to."

Aside from smiling a crooked smile as he is working on something else in the house I've asked him to fix, Josh's typical response is, "Yep, I know it babe.  That would be nice."

That would be nice.... or would it?

Last week the yoga instructor had us change up some of the routine.  She never teaches the exact same class, but I can usually see what's coming and know that if my body is twisted this way right now, it will move into X pose next.  Well, on that particular day she had woken up energized, giddy even.  She said she was "excited to live life" or some such inspiring (read: terrifying) claim. I found my feet over my head when they were supposed to be planted in plank pose.  I found my hips in the air and my shoulders over my ears when they should not have been.  In short, sweat was dripping all up in my face space.  I felt beads of it streaming from my neck onto my hairline and into my eyes.  It stung and I couldn't reach my towel or I would have fallen clean onto my nose, so it stayed there, stinging.  I was blinking so hard I thought I'd have a headache.  As Libby continued to move us through her excited-for-life madness series, I was trying to figure out how to stay with her cues but still predict what was coming next and how to reach my daggum towel.

My brain stopped trying to catch up to my body, and finally accepted that we were on a different playing field.  Then, as if by magic, it was as if my brain sat back, popped a Corona and said, "Heart, lungs, do your thing.  I'm taking the back seat." It was clarifying.  I let the expectation drop and just decided to like the sweat in my ears and eyes.  

In any job there is the mundane, the expected, and then there is the wildly unexpected bordering on chaotic.  As I raise my children I am coming to expect both, and finding myself resenting them equally.  Make the bed.  Wipe down the counters.  Unload the dishwasher.  Why is it never done.  Take the suddenly feverish baby to the doctor.  Sweep up the broken china plate.  Hear the news, "Honey I think it's time to buy new land and move across town." Clench, breathe, clench. Cry. 

Nevertheless, there are moments when I realize I actually love the mundane and I cherish the surprises.  I was wiping down my gorgeous granite countertops the other day thinking how satisfying it was to watch that grime disappear.  I folded laundry and realized that sitting in the sunroom with an excuse to do so for an hour was soothing my harried mind.  The car had to go BACK to the mechanic and somehow I was more grateful than exasperated.

Is this what they mean?  Is this what it means to lean into the work, to find the ease there and to settle into the elbow grease of life as if it is the big comfy chair?  I am wondering if I stopped running towards rest and rather pushed back the branches in my mind and reached for the tool belt-- would I find that I prefer it?

Try as I might, I can't think of a single story in the Bible wherein the protagonist goes on vacation and achieves nirvana.  In fact, I can't think of a single story like that in my own life or the lives of my friends.  I can think of a lot of stories in which a person has striven for excellence and found, more than the achievement of their goal, a growth of self.  Furthermore, I can think of a dozen instances wherein a curve ball produced depth or a shock to the system turned into the greatest gift.  I am not naive enough to believe that every bit of unexpected news or droll work will bring happiness- the world is too broken for that.  I did not expect, however, for sweat in my eyes to become something I look forward to.  Realizing that I can feel the ache and reach into it for more makes me think that I can probably discover more of this delight in struggle.  Perhaps I can even find myself singing while I scrub a toilet... for the third time that day.

Lewis, CS. "June 23." A Year with CS Lewis. 1st ed. New York: Harper Collins, 2003. 191. Print