The Sweetness of Doing Nothing

This week, Pastor Norm's first sermon in the "Strong Challenge" was about the importance of play and rest. As I listened to his message, I was reminded of a scene in a movie that addresses this very issue. The movie is "Eat Pray Love," starring Julia Roberts as real-life divorcee Liz Gilbert, who finds healing and refreshment in a year-long journey in Italy, India and Bali. While in Italy, a native of that country discusses the abject failure of Americans to engage in - and actually enjoy - recreation and rest. Americans feel guilty for taking time off, he says, and when we do, it involves sitting in front of the TV in our pajamas. By contrast, "When an Italian sees a sign that says 'you deserve a break today,' he says, 'yeah, I know.'" Out of this discussion, Liz learns a time-honored Italian phrase: "il dolce far niente" - the sweetness of doing nothing.

I've been known to feel guilty about taking time off. When my work is done, I often actually feel restless and uncomfortable not having anything that "must" be done. I can't count how many times just today I've caught myself looking out the window at work with a frown on my face, deep in thought about the mental "to-do" list I've created. Suddenly, my brain processes the beauty of the leaves changing color and the frown vanishes. How did life get this way? Why do we do this to ourselves?

And then there's eating... What could be more pleasurable than eating good food? Yet, don't we also carry a tremendous amount of guilt about the number of calories or carbs we've consumed? Our afore-mentioned Liz, having learned her lesson on sweet nothingness, offers another nugget of wisdom on this topic. When consoling a friend who's hesitating to eat the fattening pizza in front of her, Liz declares that she's tired of getting on the scale each morning so she can determine how much self-loathing to take with her into the shower. She says, "I have no interest in being obese, I'm just done with the guilt."

But perhaps a friend and former coworker of mine said it best. I worked with Pascale, a massage therapist, in my previous job. She developed bone cancer, which eventually took her life. While dealing with her illness, she was in need of money. When I offered to give her some, she insisted that she earn it by giving me a massage. I'll never forget the uneasy feeling of getting a relaxing massage from someone battling cancer, but even more memorable was what she said to me when I lamented being seen without my clothes on. She said, "Becky, let me ask you something: When you walk up stairs, can you do it without getting out of breath? Can you take a deep breath anytime you want, without any effort?" When I answered both questions in the affirmative, she said, "Then what difference does a love handle make?"

Whether it's from a movie character, a woman battling disease, or our pastor, the message is the same: Life is too short to analyze how much rest and relaxation we deserve to enjoy. God did not make us robots to work incessantly with no sense of joy or refreshment. All work and no play doesn't just make Jack a dull boy, it makes us all ineffective and uninspired for the real work God has called us to do.

Have a wonderful week, and don't forget to engage in il dolce far niente!