I’d like to say it was my sister’s fault.
I was using the mixer to help, just a bit, with the homemade truffles she was making, after all. But it wasn’t her idea to make the four batches all at once. I had suggested it. And it wasn’t her idea to keep mixing and mixing. She’s the one that first noticed the smoke smell.
But there I was, attacking a bowl full of cream cheese and melted chocolate and cocoa powder and confectioner’s sugar with the hand mixer I had used and loved for years. The concoction was thick and the mixer was struggling. I knew the work I was asking the mixer to do was more than it could handle. In fact, I had done some of the stirring by hand to try to mitigate the exertion.
In those last few seconds though, when the truffle mixture was just nearly perfect, I knew there was no turning back. “I’m going for it,” I told my sister, as the hand mixer stalled and whined and sputtered on.
Then, the pop, then the sparks flying, then the silence.
I had burned out the mixer.
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I know a little something about trying to do to many things at once, about pushing beyond limits, about burning out. If my life were an electric hand mixer, I’d be on the fourth or fifth one by now.
It’s kind of like when I made my first batch of strawberry jam: if one batch is good, then two batches would be better, I posited to myself. Except when it comes to making homemade jams and jellies, you can’t double the recipe. Period. It’s apparently an ancient law written by the hand of God into the DNA of creation. It’s a law no one apparently mentioned to me, until too late.
But there’s a similar law written by the hand of God into the DNA of each one of us – we have limits, we are human, we can only handle so much. When we try to double the recipe, when we tell ourselves, “I’m going for it,” even when we know it’s too much, the inevitable happens. We stall, we whine, we sputter on. Then, we burn out.
Five hours in the recliner yesterday, with tears pooling in my eyes as I watched syndicated sitcom after syndicated sitcom, told me that I would need to buy a new mixer soon.
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In chapter 10 of her book, Not So Fast: Slow Down Solutions for Frenzied Families, Ann Kroeker uses the metaphor of shipping load limits to describe how much activity and commitment our lives can handle.
Every ship has a different capacity for cargo — that is, every ship has limits; therefore, Plimsoll promoted a plan requiring vessels to bear a standardized, permanent mark called a “load line” that would indicate when it was overloaded, Ann writes.
She goes on to say that just like different ships have different load limits, each of us has a capacity unique to us. Maybe my best friend can sit on more committees than me, handle more meetings, maybe my neighbor feels overwhelmed with just full-time work. Whatever the load, each one of us has a limit.
Our load limit may change over time — it has for me. When I was younger, I could handle much more activity, many more nights away from home, then I can now. But as I have matured, I can handle greater depth of responsibility, just not so much activity. Often as our load limits change, however, it takes trial and error to determine what they are.
Ann wrote about this on her blog just this past week.
In the past three weeks, I’ve realized that I’ve taken on too much; I’m operating at maximum capacity—probably a smidgen over capacity. I’m less patient, discerning and attentive. I feel drained. I even missed an appointment on Monday, and though it turned out okay in the end, I spent most of the day scolding myself and feeling like a failure. I knew it was because I had too much going on.
I’m living over capacity and exceeding my limits.
And I can’t continue like that.
So, Ann is readjusting, recalibrating her load limit. So am I.
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Overloading ourselves beyond our limits is not just a personal problem, though. It can lead to self righteousness, selfish ambition, even doubt.
According to Dr. Don Carson, research professor of Trinity Evangelical Divinity School and president of The Gospel Coalition, “Some doubt is the product of burning the candle at both ends. . . . If you push hard enough, cynicism leads to doubt. But you don’t have the right to go through life cynical, snarky, and rude.”
The most spiritual thing some of us could do, Carson went on to say during the final session of THINK11 at College Park Church, is to go to bed on time. “Not to pray all night” he added, “but to sleep.”
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Lent starts Wednesday, and as I mentioned earlier, this year, I am giving up the hours of 9 p.m. to 5 a.m. as a Lenten fast. I’m giving up that one last television show, that one last load of laundry, the one more phone call, the couple more emails that keep me going and going instead of resting and sleeping.
If I am going to make it through the wilderness, after all, I am going to need my sleep. (Plus, Dr. Carson said it would be a very spiritual thing to do!)
What about you? Are you on your third, fourth, tenth mixer? Is your vessel riding very low in the water because you’ve taken on more than you can handle? Would the most spiritual thing you could do be to go to bed on time tonight?
How is Jesus speaking to you about these things? How can the wilderness of Lent help you confront, confess, and correct what Jesus is lovingly revealing?
 
PHOTO CREDIT: By M I X Y used by permission under the Creative Commons License.
Oh, my…I need to come back and read this again and just digest it, let it wash over me. And your comment about “white spaces” — so wise, so necessary!
Charity, I think this is a great Lenten fast.
And I’m glad I’m not the only one with a 9 p.m. to 5 a.m. schedule. Everyone makes fun of me, especially my own family! But this is my “load limit,” how I function best.
For the last few weeks I’ve been using this Sleep Cycle app on my phone. It tracks when you go to bed, when you wake up (based on an alarm you set) and how well you sleep. It actually measures REM sleep, in some way or another. I’ve learned that I average less than 7 hours of sleep a night during the week. No wonder I’m such a grump!
Off to bed I go now.
I did recently learn to realize when my mixer was burning up… a painful lesson to say the least. i think I have gotten better at saying no, but then fear I went too far into that direction and became complacent. Someday with His grace, I’ll get this figured out, right?! 🙂
“It can lead to self righteousness, selfish ambition, even doubt.”…ugh, yes, the truth in that should be enough to stop us in our tracks…but sadly, GOD needs to discipline us to save us from ourselves…
David – Stubbornness, stupidity, and sin sounds a lot like what my mixer metaphor means to me. “Going for it” isn’t always an act of faith.
“If my life were an electric hand mixer, I’d be on the fourth or fifth one by now.”
Now that’s an image!
I’ve pushed my self into some bad places over the years because of stubbornness, stupidity and sin.
JoDee — I think it’s true — to be fruitful we have to know our limits. I have found myself feeling very unfruitful over the past couple of months as I have tried to do so many things.
Blessings!
Michelle – I am going to look up the posts you did about Ann’s book. I am planning to write about it a little more, so I will try to link up.
I am already finding that giving up the hours of 9-5 are going to be difficult. My goal is to rest during that time, but even last night, as I tried to “practice,” I was distracted about so many things. It will take some time for my mind to let down it’s guard.
Elizabeth — I think physical injuries and illnesses remind us of our limits more than anything. I am praying for your surgery!
What a fantastic post! Those of us who want to be fruitful for the Lord should read this post every week. I appreciate the reminder.
Wow what a powerful analogy: the burned out mixer (we killed ours not too long ago around here…and have yet to replace it…I’m getting bigger biceps!).
I loved Ann K.’s book — I learned a lot from it and even wrote a few blog posts about it last year.
Similar to you, I’m going on a multi-task fast for Lent this year. A couple of weeks ago I began to think about a Lenten discipline, and just like that, the idea sprang into my head. Clearly planted there by God, who knows I am burning the candle at both ends these days.
I LOVE your idea of a 9-5 fast — I’m looking forward to hearing more about how it goes.
I’m thinking you should try MY mixer — it’s ten years old and invincible! Oh, but that defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? =p
I’m coming face to face with my limits as I anticipate time on crutches. Hurting my hip again so easily makes me feel awfully fallible.
Also, have you read “In Search of Balance” by Swenson? He’s a Christian author who has a great analysis of human limits… although you’d have to read him before 9 PM. =)
Ann — I think the fact that I have limits is one of the things I struggle most with about mortality! I wish I could just keep going. I’m looking forward to hearing more about those ideas from the retreat.
Deidra — Ten hours of sleep, huh? I think that sounds VERY helpful!
Amy — you will LOVE Ann’s book. I highly recommend it.
Laura —
That must get expensive, replacing vacuums! At least mixers aren’t so expensive.
And thanks for your encouragement. You don’t know how I needed it today.
I *love* this analogy (though I’m very sorry to hear about your mixer).
We have limits. I am facing them–even embracing them–for Lent. I worked on some of my ideas at the retreat and look forward to living them.
On a practical note, you’ve got me wondering how long my 20-year-old little mixer is going to hold out.
Me too. What Amy said.
I appreciate the reminder that capacity can change. Sometimes I am surprised by what my body can or can no longer manage. The ebb and flow is disconcerting sometimes but knowing that it’s just the way things go helps make it easier to manage.
That…and a good ten hours of sleep each night. So glad to hear that sleep is holy! 🙂
I’ve wanted to read Ann’s book for over a year. . .I need to just buy it!
Oh, good grief! I”m this same way with my vacuum cleaners. When will I ever learn that the things aren’t indestructible. We need some care and keeping too, you’re right about this, Charity. That Ann K. sure has some good ideas about that.
I’m not sure about my Lenten discipline yet. I’m still in disbelief that we are almost there. I need to do a little praying and deciding there, thanks for being the voice to prod me on in that regard.
Hugs to you, girlie. You are such a blessing around this airspace, did you know?
Sue — I am so glad you stopped by again. I was just thinking that I need to stop back by your place — indeed with are kindred spirits!
I love the “white space” image for our lives. The space around the edges that we call “margin” is important. But also the white spaces creatively placed throughout, the white space graphic designers guard like centurions, those make our lives beautiful
Oh Charity – (I love your name!) – I will never use my mixer without remembering this post. So much wisdom, so clearly spoken – and on a Monday when I need to schedule ‘white space’ on my calendar. We are on a similar journey.