Retreat

I am in retreat.

All around me, people are experiencing pain and apparent chaos. I say, “apparent” chaos because I know that God is sovereign and that nothing happens by chance. Still, the upheavals of life occur–from a human perspective–randomly and chaotically, unsettling hearts and minds. I am trying to rest in the Lord, to leave my cares at his feet, as the Bible says. However, there are days when I’m overwhelmed to the point of paralyzation, and that is when I go into full retreat. I cannot act because I cannot think. I cannot think because there is too much to think about. I freeze. I sit, almost catatonic, staring into the room, incapable of the simplest decisions, unwilling to smile or care. All I want to do is sit in peace and quiet and let time pass me by. I am in retreat.

Don’t ask me anything. Don’t tell me anything. Don’t expect anything of me or from me. Don’t say I can go home. Don’t make me go to work. Don’t anticipate my thoughts, feelings, or words. Just…don’t. I’m in retreat.

You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know what’s important to me or not important to me. You don’t know why I think or feel this way. I can’t or won’t explain myself to you; it’s too detailed or exhausting to do so. Don’t patronize me. I’m not a kid anymore. I have very good reasons for how I am today. If you doubt me, then so be it. I will retreat. Do what you’re going to do; just don’t involve me in it. You’ve heard what I think about it. I’m tired. I am in retreat.

Everywhere I turn, someone needs me or something from me. God, I can’t. I just can’t. I’m not enough. Without you, I’m witless, helpless, useless. Please, God, fill me up! I cry out to you! I’m in retreat.