I'm a little scrambled inside.
I stand near the fridge and look at calendar squares for the upcoming week, and it's hard to find rest.
It's hard to imagine rest.
The squares all hold good things. Very good things. Some of the days hold things I'm very much looking forward to. Other squares hold blessing, like lessons and visits to the doctor and activities for the boys we're fortunate to have. But sometimes the goodness stacks up and I feel a bit unglued. There are unwritten things, too. Like going to the gym every day with Grant. The bike rides I want to take with Samuel. The summer school schedule I laid down like law and haven't given a good flirt.
And that's when I see him.
I walk away from the calendar, from the pressure and commitment and the guilt of grumbling about a good-n-plenty life, and I walk into my bedroom. And on my bed I find my small, sleeping son.
The house is charged with life. There's energy and activity and sound. I hear some of the boys in the pool outside. Another is upstairs playing music way too loud. The kitchen door opens and slams shut.
And he slumbers still.
I sit on the bed for a moment. I admire this sought-out peace. Zay's face is smooth. No lines of worry. No creased forehead. No furrowed brow. His breath is soft and slow. It's a lullaby, a song I want to know. He's wrapped in Mine-O-Mine - his faithful blanket friend. And he pulls me in. I can't resist.
I curl around him. I want this peace to be mine.
Zay shifts and I slide my arm around him. He's curved into me. I close my eyes and fall into his rhythm.
And I understand what's happened. This boy has found rest. It didn't come to seek him. The fast-spinning way of life didn't stop. But he rests in spite of it. He rests in the midst of it. He's found a way to find sweet rest.
I want to find sweet rest, too. Not the curl-up-and-sleep kind of rest. I want to find the kind of rest that brings peace when commitment and needs and busy piles high. The kind of peace that stills my heart and steadies my soul when life breaks loose and runs wild.The kind of rest that makes me slow enough to see His presence, still enough to hear Him, quiet enough to know Him when the days just move too fast.
Zay rolls over. His head tips and rests under my chin. Now his brown arm rests over me. I need to get up and chip away at the day.
But I'll take just a moment.
In a wild season of life, I'm learning to seek and receive rest.
Lord, help me to find rest, the kind of sweet rest that You offer....Amen.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28