I was listening to a podcast when this quote stood out to me: “Pain is a traveling professor. Pain knocks and the wise say: ‘Come in—sit with me. Teach me what I must know.’”1

I was fretting about the upcoming week. I didn’t know how I was going to get everything done on my need-to-do and want-to-do lists. I hurried into the laundry room and noticed some papers on the floor. I bent down to pick them up, but I misjudged my distance from a cabinet, and as I jerked upwards, I cracked my head on the corner of the cabinet.

As the pain erupted, I put my hand on my head and felt the wetness and saw the blood. I grabbed some paper towels and ice to attend to the growing “goose egg.” All I could do was lie back, apply ice, and try to figure out what was going on. Was God rearranging my schedule, so everything was canceled except the most important thing? And if so, what was that most important thing?

I called the chiropractor, and at my appointment later that morning, he told me that I had given myself a mini whiplash. If I ignored it, it could take a long time to heal. But if I stopped everything and took care of it, I would feel better soon.

So, my plans for the week changed. No more exercise classes. No more early morning walks. No more errands. No more accomplishments. No more preparations. No more good deeds. My need-to-do and want-to-do lists were suddenly cleared. I could barely tackle the most essential tasks. Mostly, I just had to be still.

Gradually, I felt thankful I hadn’t hurt myself worse and began to hear the lessons in the quietness. Much of the discomfort I felt wasn’t from having hit my head. It was from having to explain my sudden absence to others, from feeling like I was missing out on things I wanted to do or felt I should be doing, or from berating myself for my clumsiness.

When I allowed myself to be quiet and rest, I felt a new kind of healing enter my soul. I realized that it was just what I needed. I had felt pressured and had been unable to say no to tasks on my lists that were overwhelming me. I realized that this new, imposed stillness should have been the most important thing on my list from the start.

  1. Glennon Doyle ↑