Martha, Martha

The Mary in me wants to remind the Martha in me that if we could both sit a while at the feet of Jesus, there is no wasted time, that I can come to his feet still a bit disheveled and very much unprepared to be made ready and made beautiful and be given everything and more I need to do tackle the rest. The Mary in me is ready to be in awe and soak in every revelation, the Martha in me wants to think she's got this one if everyone would stop trying to nail her feet to the floor.

Sometimes when I'm sitting and thinking or reading or soaking, I can begin to feel wasteful, like I'm wiling my time away, but I'm not sure how to tell the difference sometimes between rest and wasted time, between refreshment and idle twaddle. Sometimes I tell myself I can't rest until this list of very-important-things is finished, but that particular list grows faster than I can ever keep up with it and only shrinks a bit if I downgrade some of them or if someone else helps me take them up. Perspective seems to help me re-prioritize. Prayer or just quiet thought on the things that really do matter tend to help me release some of the weight from the very-important list, trusting that only the things that matter are worth thinking very much about and even those are really going to be up to God to help me to work out.

The Martha in me now holds her list very tight in one fist but lets up a little for Mary to pry it out and show Jesus. And now it doesn't seem so important. She can smile, breathe and sing a little when she goes to move a load of laundry and feed the cat and copy some school worksheets for tomorrow. And the rest will still be there tomorrow.