I woke up this past Saturday and didn’t know what to do with myself.
I’ve worked nearly every Saturday for the past six years at the hospital and I was so eager to have a true weekend, a two-day-in-a-row-mini-vacation. I’d lived with a day off here or there for so long that the prospect of 48 uninterrupted hours of relaxation made me dizzy with glee.
I expected to see cartoon blue birds singing and wildflowers blossoming as I sauntered past. I expected to be filled with song and to feel so rested come Monday.
Only that’s not how it turned out. I was so anxious about using my newly freed time well and resting so thoroughly that I made myself anxious the entire weekend! I slept in and did some chores and ran a few errands and read and talked with a friend and sat by the pool and cooked dinner… and realized that this was life. That every weekend would not be filled to the brim with entertainment. That chores still needed to be done whether on a Wednesday or a Saturday. And I learned that 48 hours can go by so quickly, especially when I spent 40 of them fretting about what would be the most relaxing, best use of my time.
I want to enjoy my weekends and not fret. I want to experience true rest instead of scheming about what would be the most restful! I need to realize that I had a normal, expected, productive and good weekend, despite it’s notable lack of cartoon blue birds.