When Your Strength is Gone

One Christmas Eve, more than 20 years ago, my strength was gone to cope with my husband Randy’s alcoholism. He usually pulled himself together for occasions like holidays or birthdays, but this time he checked out by drinking. He sat on the couch, trance-like, watching TV. He drank vodka all evening while I finished holiday preparations on autopilot. I felt like I was suffocating.

Randy and I went through the motions on Christmas Day, trying to act cheerful, as if nothing were wrong. At some point, you can’t ignore the elephant in the room—even though it was tempting to hang out in denial. We had planned to travel over the snowy North Cascades Mountains after Christmas, to spend a few days at a quiet cabin. I wondered how this would be possible after his drinking binge. I couldn’t pretend everything was fine. Instead, I insisted that Randy check into a treatment facility again. With reluctance, he agreed.

Time-out

Then I surprised myself by calling to make a reservation for one in the small mountain community. Sometimes when you’re at the end of your strength, you need to do what’s practical—take time out to rest. I decided to go to the cabin alone. I braved the mountain passes and arrived in the Methow Valley long after dark. I drove for miles to the Kramer Cabin located at a tiny dot on the map called Early Winters. I wondered about the wisdom of my decision. Here I was out in the middle of nowhere, straining to read the rustic street signs.

I finally found the cabin. My heart pounded as I looked out into the pitch black, no lights anywhere. My imagination ran through a kaleidoscope of scenarios. I regretted every scary movie I’d watched. I fumbled around trying to locate a light switch. When I flicked on the lights, I couldn’t believe the incredible setting. The décor looked like something out of an L.L. Bean catalog. Log furniture with comfy overstuffed cushions gave a warm welcome. I flipped another switch and a cozy propane stove danced to life. I took a deep breath and felt peace.

I sensed the Lord’s presence. I had no doubt that He had prepared a much-needed oasis of rest for me. During those few days, I soaked in God’s goodness—that He cared for me in such tangible and even amazing ways.

I spent unrushed hours reading the Bible, praying, and marveling at the beauty of God’s creation, right outside the cabin windows. I drove into town for the weekly Al-Anon meeting where I felt an instant bond with the women there. I wasn’t alone, even in an unfamiliar town.

The Basics

I love the way Jesus cares for weary people. There are at least two accounts in the gospels (Mark 6 and Luke 9) of Jesus feeding people, thousands of people, with only a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish. In fact, there were baskets of leftovers. Jesus showed compassion. He didn’t tell them to “buck up” and eat later. He was genuinely concerned about them, about their needs, their comfort. His priority was meeting their basic needs of nourishment and rest. I believe Jesus cares about our basic needs as well.

You might not be hungry for food like Jesus’ weary followers, but like me, you may be hungry for rest, compassion, caring, comfort, and understanding.

Jesus says to those who are weary, Come right where you are and bring all the pieces of your life—the good, the shameful, the heart-breaking ones. He says all who are carrying heavy burdens should come. He promises to give you rest and life. Life that’s full of hope and possibilities—no matter what is happening around you, no matter what choices others are making.

The next time you feel like your energy needle is registering empty and you don’t have any strength left, consider that Jesus might be directing you to a time-out—a time to rest and regain your strength and perspective.

Will you give yourself permission to take a time-out?

Do you need a time-out from life? @MargaretMcSweeney @DebKalmbach
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