The Show Must Go On

One of my favorite bloggers for a good laugh, a stern talking-to, or sisterly advice is PeaceBang over at Beauty Tips for Ministers. She recently wrote a post about the busy life of a minister. About how, no matter how we are feeling or what's been happening in our lives, the show must go on.

Give it a read here, if you have the time. It's full of great insight.

Pregnancy has been teaching me this lesson - "the show must go on!" in a whole new way.

Except for my gluten intolerance, I'm a pretty healthy person. As long as I don't get glutened I have little trouble working a long week and then getting an emergency hospital call late at night. I look forward to Sunday morning worship with all its required energy. I eat pretty well, I sleep well, and I almost always have more than enough strength for the day.

Enter: a baby.

All that healthy strong stuff went out the window about six weeks into my pregnancy. I don't know how the fact escaped me before this year - many of my friends have had kids! - but I soon realized that being pregnant is hard! It's joyful and holy and beautiful and all that good stuff, too, but it's also very physically taxing. My brother-in-law told me recently that being pregnant is downright heroic. True, dat.

For the first time, I really understand PeaceBang's sentiment about pushing through the fatigue and exhaustion no matter what. No matter how I feel--and often it's really lousy--the show must go on. The work of God must go on. Worship must go on.

Back in my first trimester I was literally dragging myself out of bed and to the office. I looked so utterly forlorn, despite my best attempts to cover up my malaise with makeup, that several of our deacons pulled me aside after meetings and asked, "Are you okay? Are we working you too hard?" Despite my best efforts, the nausea and fatigue had me looking less than great, even with a good load of hair product.

--Photo borrowed from Fancy Pants Weddings.

The second trimester went a bit better, but the months were so busy and full that I often found myself totally spent by Wednesday. Nights when I could go to bed by 7 or 8pm, I did.

Now, into the third trimester, we've been suffering a heatwave in Wisconsin. It's been over 100 degrees regularly for an entire month, and I'm wilting like the green pepper plants in our yard. Our church offices have air conditioning, but the sanctuary doesn't. All my usual rules about what I wear in worship (closed-toed shoes, dresses with sleeves, etc.) have gone out the window as I chug from my water bottle and try to survive. It's just too darned hot to be pregnant.

Yet there are things that my ordination vows require of me, that God requires of me, that this vocation requires of me. Sunday worship in an unairconditioned sanctuary. Home and hospital visits around the county. Administration and coordination. A pleasant response when I'd rather curl up in the fetal position. An extra moment to check in when I would rather be asleep in bed.

Sometimes it is hard to face the day.

Yet, there is such grace in the effort, in the trying. I learn every day that my own strength is not enough. I am reminded almost every hour that I need God desperately. Not just in the abstract sense, but in the concrete physical sense. To help me get through this day, this meeting, this sermon, this visit. To give me enough strength for the unexpected, and enough sense to rest when rest is available to me.

In my worst moments, I fight the exhaustion with anger. "WHY do I feel like this?" But all that does is exhaust me even more.

I'm learning to take the waves of energy and fatigue as they come, to order my days so that my best energy goes to the most important tasks. I'm learning that nurturing a new little life starts now, when I make time for lunch or go to bed early or curl up to watch the Olympics with my husband instead of tackling the dishes in the sink. I'm learning that God loves me even if my "To Do" list is still mostly full.

I'm learning that the show must go on, but that I'm not always its most important star.

Thanks for the lessons, God. I needed them.