The Analogy Isn’t New
His blue eyes sparkle and he giggles as he rips off the wrapping paper of another gift. Freeing the toy from its box, he holds it up triumphantly. Another train! I shake my head and join in his giggles.
For my growing-too-fast boy’s 4th birthday, he’d asked for just one thing. Geo-Trax – a colorful, snapping together, remote controlled set of trains and train tracks. Each train had a different personality. There were even animated videos to go along with the sets.
To put it mildly, our family and friends delivered on his request. We soon had enough tracks to cover our living room with plastic mountains and bridges and zig-zag tracks. He’d spend hours placing down the tracks, rearranging them, hauling tiny freight and telling stories under his breath to go along with the set-up.
But, there was a problem. Batteries.
Each remote control needed several. Each train required a handful. A few hours of play and suddenly the trains didn’t zoom along the tracks, they crept. The songs didn’t jingle, they whined. The whistles didn’t blow, the moaned. The remotes clicked and whirred, but the trains stayed motionless.
To begin to play again, we’d unscrew the miniscule metal screw, flip out the dying batteries and replace them. We kept the tiny screwdriver handy and bought batteries in bulk.
The analogy of the death of batteries and the need for rest isn’t new. But, every now and again, I need a reminder.
After seasons of intense work, I need to change my batteries.
Exhale
Five minutes after the day’s final video-call-lesson with little learners, I scribble on a logoed notepad with my favorite green flair pen. The words come quick – a brain dump style to do list, just slightly less than 20 items long, includes everything from refilling allergy medicine for our sweet, old-lady, allergic-to-grass Boxer girl to a writing deadline to an email needing a carefully-crafted response.
Exhale. Close my eyes. Rub my temples. Some days the lists in my mind beg to be written down. This has been one of those days. Through medium-sized student in-person classes and tiny learner video call classes and responding to a steady stream of online assignment submissions and face-to-face-masked conversations, the things to remember swirled in my mind and pulled at my attention. The pace of this day mirrors the breakneck speed of almost every school day.
The hustle and bustle of students in the library just outside the door of my closet-turned-makeshift-teaching-via-video-space snap me back to the present moment. Looking back over the list, I realize several of the things will actually take just a moment, and several others make more sense to accomplish in bulk during an errand run over the weekend. I categorize the list. Then add three more things as they surface into conscious thought. Then move two into a different category as I realize the deadlines are self-imposed. No one but me cares when I finish those.
Exhale. Look up. Put the lid on my pen and push back my chair.
I glance at my watch to check the time. 3:00 pm. In 20-30 minutes my boy will walk in the library doors and be ready within minutes to begin the weekend.
Exhale. I am weary. Tired seeps deep into my bones and my brain.
As much as I’d like to will myself to tackle – or even begin! – the next big project on my to do list, I know better. I need to step away. Instead, I prop open my door and help my library co-teacher check-in and reshelve books. We chat easily about the week. We greet our kids as they drop their backpacks and lounge across the library seating. With the movement of my body and light-hearted, friendly conversation and a change of scenery, the cobwebs begin to clear from my mind.
A few minutes later, I pack up my laptop and curriculum, my lunchbox and coffee mug, and throw the bag over my shoulder. I push aside the feeling I just wasted half an hour of work time. The lesson planning, the grading and the emails will all be there when I open it back up later. The moments of saying hello, connecting and resetting my mind aren’t just a pleasurable part of my day, they are vital.
“Ready, buddy?” I call and we head out into the sunshine for home.
Shifting my focus from the tasks at hand, even for half an hour, recharges my soul. How do you recharge your batteries, my friend? I’d love to know.
Reminders
Here are a handful of simple reminders that often work for me:
*Move – Take a walk, dance to a silent disco, or even fold laundry, just move.
*Switch the sounds – If you work in quiet, turn up the music or call a friend. If you are usually surrounded by noise and conversation, find a still place.
*Grin and express gratitude – The simple act of smiling at someone can brighten their day, and yours. Take a moment to be thankful, aloud or in a journal or with a friend.
*Pray – In Jesus’ model prayer, He asks God for “daily bread.” So often, when my batteries are running low, it’s because I’m using today’s energy for tomorrow’s challenges.
Hugs and love, Bethany