This is about the time when the going really gets tough for lots of people recovering from the storm.
Summer's here. The Boardwalk and beaches are open, for the most part. Tourists are again coming to town, buying sunscreen and ice cream cones.
Drive down many streets, and the houses look like they're pretty much back to normal.
We who live here, though, know the subtle signs that things are still far from normal. The greater-than-usual number of contractors' trucks. The dumpsters and storage pods in the driveways. The neighbors we just don't see much anymore (where are they staying?) And then there are those strange-looking houses we come upon here and there, elevated six feet or more in the air.
The reality's setting in: when people in the know talk about LONG-TERM recovery, they really mean it.
This is the time when self-care becomes very important.
"Self-care?" you may ask.
"That sounds awfully self-indulgent. I'm tough. I'm a survivor. I got through hurricane, flood and a week without electricity. I'm the sort who takes care of others. Why should I be feeling so low, when I can see so many signs that things are slowly getting better?" 
Self-help writer Stephen Covey has a little image I've shared before, in sermons. It's the image of two men using an old-fashioned cross-cut saw.
All day, they're sawing away. The two are motivated, even driven. Working from sunup to sundown, they want to get as much wood cut as they possibly can.
There's a problem, though. The more they work, the harder the work becomes. It's more than just the tired muscles they'd expect, after several hours of hard labor. The saw-blade itself seems to be tired. It's just not cutting as cleanly as it used to.
That's because the blade is getting duller. What the men need to do is stop and sharpen the saw, but there's a nagging inner voice inside them that says,
"No, you can't stop now. There's work to be done. Just keep going. Every minute you're not sawing is a minute wasted."It's a hard thing to do, but somehow we need to realize that sharpening the saw is not a break from work, but is part of the work.
Long-term recovery requires a certain rhythm. Work, rest, play - and, let's not forget, worship - that's what the drumbeat of recovery sounds like. Sandy may have come and gone in a day or two, but recovery from a hurricane takes years.
Our faith offers ancient wisdom that speaks to this situation. It's called "sabbath." The ancient Hebrews knew that value of pausing, at regular intervals, to rest, regroup, retool - and, most of all, to be still and know that the Lord is God.
So, take some time off from your recovery. Sleep in. Treat yourself to something nice. Find someone to talk to if you're feeling stressed. Maybe even join those tourists in spreading out a blanket on the beach, or take a walk to nowhere on the Boardwalk.
Sharpen the saw. Remember to sharpen the saw.
