The Spin

I was the kid who loved to spin.

I would spin around and around and around, then collapse in the grass and let the world keep spinning around me.

I loved that feeling.

I also loved the way my stomach would drop as a roller coaster dropped on the first big hill of the ride.

I loved anything daring and thrilling.

One summer, my neighborhood friend and I decided we would jump off the roof of every house in the neighborhood.

We did it.  I have major back problems now to prove it.

Another summer was spent building and jumping bike ramps.  We did all kinds of tricks, but we mostly liked to jump for distance.  Measuring each biker's jumping length was a bit of problem.  We solved this by laying all the little kids in the neighborhood in a row from the ramp down the street and measured length by the number of kids we could clear.  I'll never forget the image of my neighbor running towards us screaming, "STOP!!  STOP!!!"

It's a miracle we didn't kill anyone.  It's a miracle we didn't kill my baby brother.

Sometime after my first child was born, I began to notice that my recovery time became longer and longer after a roller coaster ride, or a swing set ride, or even just some spinning fun with my daughter.  I felt a little sick.  I would get a headache.  Standing on a high ledge, bridge or building has VERY negative repercussions for me these days.

The spin isn't working for me anymore.

What's funny is that I still find myself often caught in a spin of a different kind.  It's like there's still something of that thrill-seeking, but reckless child inside of me that tries to perpetuate the feeling I craved so much as a youth.

The thing is this kind of spin is more dangerous.  This kind of spin keeps me in a place of restlessness, discontentment and anxiety.

Spinning is NOT conducive to peace.

This last year I've worked at intentionality in this area.  I try to make decisions throughout my days that keep me in or lead me to a place of peace.

It's a battle to be sure.  It requires me to create space in my days and nights for quiet, thoughtful reflection, reading, conversation, and quiet.  It requires me to "under" schedule rather than over schedule.  It often requires me to say no when I would rather say yes.

Not that my life can really be described as peaceful.  We are a very busy family and I am a very busy woman.  But I'm finding that my heart and mind are maintaining peace more often.  Because of this, I recognize the spin more readily and am learning to make choices that pull me away from it.

Getting there, but not there yet.

Won't that always be the case?