Every Body's (invisible) Labor

Welcome to Chasing After Wind I’m Alysia Nicole Harris, your fellow wind-chaser in our journey to follow the Holy Spirit wherever She blows or, in this case, flows.

This week’s letter is titled “Every Body’s (invisible) Labor.” It’s about stopping to notice all the quiet work going on behind the scenes of our lives.

Anchor

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob,
    or, whine, Israel, saying,
“God has lost track of me.
    He doesn’t care what happens to me”?
Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening?
God doesn’t come and go. God lasts.
    He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath.
    And he knows everything, inside and out.
He energizes those who get tired,
    gives fresh strength to dropouts.
For even young people tire and drop out,
    young folk in their prime stumble and fall.
But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
    They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don’t get tired,
    they walk and don’t lag behind. — Isaiah 40-27-31 (MSG)

Sea

I’m tired y’all.

Photo by yao oo on Unsplash

This week was packed. Two grant deadlines, franchise tax filing, meetings with general contractors for the church restoration I’m heading up, contacting one realtor to help rent my place in Atlanta and another to look for a house in Corsicana, preparing for the women’s group I’m co-leading, booking accommodations for a mother-daughter trip, working on a fresh installment of Chasing After Wind, and still making sure to spend some time with Jesus. 

During a typical week, this would be a lot of work, but this week, it was ridiculous because, on top of all that, my body’s also been preparing for my period. Progesterone levels are plummeting, estrogen levels are rising. The composition of my brain is adapting and compensating for the chemical changes due to fluctuating hormones. My breasts are swelling. My fat deposits are readjusting. My body is working so hard, cleaning house, making changes. But I just ignore what all it’s doing. Telling myself that I gotta work harder to get it all done.

The truth is that we often don’t see the invisible labor happening around us, or even in us.

But that doesn’t mean that work is not getting done. It’s just escaping detection. This is a metaphor for both our social and spiritual lives.

Whose labor is invisible to you?

Photo by Natasha Hall on Unsplash

Is it your partner’s, the one who organized the house while you were away at work? Is it your own, as you fail to celebrate all the tasks you diligently accomplished, continuing to pile on more and more to-do’s? Is it God’s? 

Is there a difference between work and labor? And whose labor feels unimportant to you? Who do you depend on so much that you take their presence and effort for granted? If we do it to our own bodies, we can be sure others are also feeling the effects.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

When I answer this question, I think first about my boyfriend. I intuitively believe that I am doing more work for our relationship, for our future, for him, for us. What’s really happening is that I’m working overtime, frustrated as hell, because I’m struggling to trust that he’s engaged in our collective well-being. M. doesn’t externally show signs of worry and doesn’t always signal the efforts that he’s taking or the plans he’s making. He kinda just does it. But because I don’t see or feel it happening, I go into overdrive and miss everything he has been doing to show me love and care. Sorry, M. It’s a battle. 

It’s easier for me to believe that the only person working is me. But every body’s labor matters. Just because I don’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Fatigue and frustration can be the sign. They can even be a gift—if I take them as gentle signals to lean a little harder on faith. I reflexively think that faith requires me to do something, something on top of what I’m already doing. But the first thing faith requires is a pause.

Faith is, first and foremost, my restful acknowledgment that I am not the only one working and that it doesn’t all depend on me. So enough with the forcing. There are Flows at work that escape my notice, and these Flows are not against me. They are working with me, just like my body, if I let Them do Their job.  

Isaiah 40:29 from the passage above, says that God works to give power and strength to those who ain’t got it. Because God is invisible to us, often His work is, too. But verse 31 is clear that when I wait, while I wait, He promises to refresh me. This let’s me know that the answer to my frustration is not always to keep demanding to-dos but to trust. Trust enough to say what I need. Trust enough to believe in the other person’s love. Trust enough to know they are trying and that if it doesn’t go exactly the way I expected, we are okay. That I am alright.  

I’ve said this before, but I’m learning to treat the week before my period as a period in which I’m invited to slow down and wait. Wait for God and wait for myself. I’m giving myself plenty time and space. There may be no outward signs that anything’s at work yet—no blood in the water, so to speak—but if I pause long enough, I can feel something getting ready to happen.

Verily,

Alysia

Sail

No poem this week. I leave you with the space and time I leave myself.