"Look at that huge dragon," I said to Bill as we took our seats in row Z of the Oriental Theatre, located in Chicago's Ford Center for the Performing Arts.

Bill acknowledged the ominous creature mounted above the stage and then opened his playbill to learn about the cast.

We'd been waiting for three months to see the award-winning musical Wicked and now the 2 p.m. performance was just minutes away. Despite my excitement, I was also tired; so tired that I held back, not a gasp, but a yawn when the animated dragon came to life and the curtains opened to reveal a beautifully dressed Glinda floating across the stage.

I'm breaking down, I said to myself, recalling the phrase that came to mind the day before when I noticed that a piece of trim had pulled away from a wall in our kitchen. My body, like our house, was falling apart from use.

It's no wonder, I concluded, remembering how I had stayed up until well after midnight on several occasions that week to work on my monthly newsletter. These late nights, coupled with several 5 a.m. wake-up calls to attend an indoor cycling class at the YMCA, left me defenseless against what happened next as my eyelids grew heavy; and I nodded off to sleep.

Why is the green witch so upset? I wondered when I woke up an undetermined amount of time later to find that I had no idea what was happening on stage. And when did Glinda change into that outfit?

As I struggled to understand what I missed I felt, not just confused, but convicted of putting so much energy into my work and exercise, that I had nothing left for this date with Bill.

The newsletter goes out tonight, I reassured myself as the first half of the performance came to a close and I stood up to stretch. Just one more night and I can catch up on sleep.

Thankfully, the fifteen-minute intermission was just what I needed to wake up enough to enjoy the second half of the musical, which was everything friends had told me it would be.

"Maybe we can take the girls some time," I suggested to Bill after the performance ended and we stood up to exit the theatre.

Then I could see what I missed, I added silently, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

That night, with the songs from the musical still running through my mind, I sat down to finish my newsletter. I had been struggling with the main story all week, moving words around in a perfectionist-like effort to get them just right. Tonight was no different as I worked until 2:30 a.m. before hitting the point where more changes would make the story worse instead of better.

Scheduling a newsletter for delivery usually gives me a great sense of satisfaction. On this occasion, however, I was too exhausted to feel even a sense of relief as I pressed the send button before shutting down my computer and collapsing into bed.

Two days later, I was still feeling depleted when I returned home after walking the girls to the bus stop. Determined to get a head start on the next newsletter, I turned on the computer, opened a partially written story, and realized that I had no idea how to finish it. Annoyed, I opened another file and again was at a loss for words.

"Why is it so hard to get started?" I asked in frustration.

The answer I was looking for would come a few weeks later when I checked out The Power of Full Engagement from my local library and read this on page 29: “Balancing stress and recovery is critical not just in competitive sports, but also in managing energy in all facets of our lives. ... Too much energy expenditure without sufficient recovery eventually leads to burnout and breakdown."

I knew that not using a skill would put me at risk of losing it, but had no idea that overuse could have the same effect. Wondering what else the authors had to say on the subject, I read on.

"Full engagement requires cultivating a dynamic balance between the expenditure of energy (stress) and the renewal of energy (recovery) in all dimensions," Jim Loehr and Tony Schwartz wrote, "We call this rhythmic wave oscillation, and it represents the fundamental pulse of life."

These words made me realize the error of my non-rhythmic ways. Despite the fact that our "breathing, brain waves, body temperature, heart rates, hormone levels and blood pressure all have healthy (and unhealthy) rhythmic patterns", (p. 30) I had become what Loehr and Schwartz call a flat liner, forcing myself to live a linear life, thinking I could spend mental and physical energy indefinitely without suffering a decline in performance.

Why did I push myself so hard? I asked.

Why do any of us? I added, finding it interesting that Jesus offers rest to the weary and burdened in Matthew 11:28 and still we focus on doing at the expense of just being with God.

That was my problem on the day I was at a loss for words as I refused to take a break and took off to run errands instead. One returned item and two purchases later, I was back home but not back to my old self.

"Maybe I'm not cut out to be a writer," I said, knowing God was the only one who could hear. "It's just too hard."

If Jim Loehr and Tony Schwartz had also been in the room, they would have explained that my low energy was making me vulnerable to negative emotions. They also would have told me that relationships "are one of the most powerful potential sources of emotional renewal." (p. 23)

Perhaps I knew this on a subconscious level as I waited for God to respond with a word of encouragement or a sign that He still wanted me to write.

Looking back, I wonder if God didn't provide one because I refused to sit still for long enough to listen. I wanted Him to come to me on my terms as I cleaned the kitchen and folded laundry. Instead all I heard was silence, and what I felt was despair as I pictured myself sending out one last newsletter that simply read: "Too tired to write."

The next morning, after driving my daughters to school (because I was too worn out to wake them up in time to catch the bus), I sat down in one of our recliners and opened my bible for encouragement.

As I studied the neatly organized paragraphs, trying to decide where to begin, I couldn't help but wonder: What's on TV?

Choosing entertainment over enlightenment, I powered up the high definition plasma and began flipping through the channels.

Who is Matt Lauer talking to? I asked myself before pressing the back button on the remote control to find out.

The previous channel appeared on the screen just as Matt introduced viewers to Martina McBride, who was visiting the Today show to sing a song from her new album.

Feeling compelled to watch, I placed the remote on the arm of my chair and waited for the music to begin. When it did, I immediately connected with the lyrics as Martina performed her song Anyway.

"You can chase a dream, that seems so out of reach, and you know it might not ever come your way," Martina sang. "Dream it anyway."

I had been looking for a sign. What I got was a song. Like the prophet in Isaiah 50:4, the Lord had given this singer "an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary" and opened my ears "to listen like one being taught."

That night after everyone else was asleep, I reached for my journal to record everything that had happened that morning. I should have been in bed, but didn't want to forget the encouragement I had received. I also didn't want the night to end without understanding the message behind the mess of the day's events.

In the past, I had gained additional insight through journaling. Tonight proved to be equally enlightening after I filled the first blank page with my thoughts and turned it over to continue writing on the back.

How did this get here? I wondered when I found a drawing of me sleeping where the blank page should be.

Reminder Number 1

I knew I was the subject because the words "Dear Mom" were written at the top of the page in large print. What I didn't know was how the drawing had gotten into my journal.

Hollie must have drawn it last fall, I concluded after remembering that I kept my journal near my recliner where I could reach it while recovering from knee surgery.