Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Thinking of Nothing

A very long time ago, I attended a marriage conference with my husband.  It was wonderful of course, and something was said that struck me as funny.
Men have the ability to think of absolutely nothing.
I had a long conversation with hubby, asking if that was true and he admitted it was.
How is that even possible, I asked him.
He just shook his head.
Yes, but how do you do it? And when?
He shrugged. I just do. Usually when I'm driving.

The ability to think of nothing.
Not the 'my mind is so full and I'm stressed because I have so much to do and Lord, why aren't you giving me peace' brain. But just...thinking of nothing.
I have no idea what that is like.

Why couldn't I have moments of thinking of 'nothing'?  I tried to remember moments when time would go by and I wouldn't even think.

And I came up with two.  One was when I worked at a nursery and when it was very early in the morning, I would pick out the weeds and dead leaves off of each individual perennial we sold. The table was waist-height so it wasn't strenuous. And it was nice to see immediate results.
Another time would be whenever I would lie on an air mattress on my tummy, at the cottage, and just putter around, peeking at things in the water.

But I don't have a cottage anymore and I don't work at a nursery.  I have a full day, everyday of constant interruptions, just like everyone else.  Even writing this post, I've been interrupted five times by the child, the new cat and having to do something before I forgot.

Yesterday afternoon, I was doing my quiet time and a large 'Fed-Ex' truck pulled up in front of the house. I immediately went into overdrive, trying to remember if hubby had order some new tree-climbing equipment or maybe it was his new uniform or maybe..oh wait, the truck is more at my neighbour's house than mine.  But my son went bananas, shrieking and yelling, so I went downstairs and he wouldn't stop laughing, but wouldn't say anything. So I signed for the package, brought it inside and saw it was for hubby. But my son kept bouncing up and down and told me to open it. So I did.

A few weeks ago, my son - being 9 and very much into Lego, approached hubby and asked if they could buy me this.  This is the Parisian Restaurant with over 2,000 pieces and working drawers, furnace doors, tile floors, a little bitty turkey, knives for the French Chef...I loved it. But it was Lego. And I should be wanting winter boots and maybe a new book. But my child is terribly romantic, and he and hubby split the cost and sent me a gift.

I did my chores and began dinner and sat on my bed (I'm guessing you already know I love my bed) and opened the box. Nineteen bags of Lego with three instruction booklets. So I opened one and began building.

Regardless of the interruptions (there were 12) and the fact that I haven't even finished one bag yet, and it took from 4 until 10:30, I got to build Lego. And while I was building, my mind emptied.

And it was bliss.

I'm pretty sure whoever invented Lego loved the Lord and loved women/moms.

What's your moment of thinking of nothing?
Jenn Kelly is a sometimes author who has only written one chapter in a month.  And she likes Lego.  You can find her at, but she hasn't been there in a while because she's creating instead of writing.


  1. I once saw a similar analogy, Jenn. The lecturer showed us a box, empty. That he said is a man's brain. Sometimes the box fills up with cars, or computers, but only one at a time. Mostly, it's empty. Then he showed us a ball of tangled string. That, he said, is a woman's mind, always, everything running together, everything connected to everything else. No wonder we struggle to focus!

  2. I'm inspired to pull out a box of lego!

  3. Oh, thanks for that Jenn, now I understand a lot that puzzled me. When i lie awake with my brain buzzing, my husband says "just don't think of anything and go to sleep." If only I could do weeding at night I'd be OK.

  4. I just love the image of you sitting there on your bed enjoying building that Lego, Jenn--with a completely empty mind! Go for it! I have the flu at the moment, plus I have broken some bone off my ankle, so I am a little immobilised at home. Just yesterday, I tried to empty my mind and relax totally on my bed, with little success. The only way I've found I can do it is to invite Jesus to hold me close and just to rest against him, a la Psalm 131, letting him take all those cares into himself. I can't always get to that place, but it is beautiful when that happens.

    1. Jo-Anne, I'm sorry to hear you're sick and nursing an injured foot. Praying for you.

  5. Jenn, enjoy your Lego :) You'll have to post a picture for us when you're finished.