Juggling Work and Rest
He ran onstage in a flurry of red and yellow lights and produced five balls with lives of their own. They arched and circled up and around, behind and over until we grew dizzy at the display. After the first fanfare the juggler began talking to us. AS he enchanted us with words, he added balls, balanced them on his shoulders, caught them in his mouth. Sometimes he juggled bowling pins or swords, but his eyes and body were constantly alert to one purpose: it took all of his balance and attention to control the myriad of airborne objects.
How often our lives are like that! We constantly juggle activities, duties, chores, projects--we rivet our attention on the complex schedule of the moment that forbids perspective. Sometimes we drop some of the balls because our alertness fails after months of strain.
I fear, though, that America starts adult life with six balls. When frustration sets in, we add more. Our forefathers have imbued us with an extreme aversion to indolence--the habitual love of ease that would make nothing of itself--and the pendulum has swung to the other extreme: workaholism.
Adapted from "Juggling Work and Rest" by RuthAnn Ridley (Discipleship Journal, September/October 1984)