Quiet Place to Rest

A couple of years ago, I walked into the kitchen and saw, through the leaded glass of the heavy door, my best friend. She was on my porch. Sitting on our old swing. She was still bundled in her winter coat and her eyes were closed.

She was quiet. Still.

I flung the door open. Our porch is enclosed, but there was enough winter bite to make it cold. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Come on in!"

My friend looked up. She tried to smile, but the dimpled sweetness was lost. Her heart was heavy. I could see it without a word.

"I can't," she finally said. "My boys are sick with the flu. Again. I think I may be coming down with it, too. There are a million things to do. I feel ragged. And when I parked the van just now - look what happened to this." She held the shifter in her mittened hands.Her eyes filled with tears. Mine did, too.

I sat on the swing next to her.

"I don't want to infect your household," she finally said.  "I just needed a quiet place to rest."

She and I talked for a few minutes. It wasn't long before the small faces of my household were pressed against the kitchen-side of the glass. My friend encouraged me to go in. I eventually did. I closed the door behind me and left her on the porch.It felt a little odd. But I wanted to give my friend what she'd asked for. A quiet place to rest.

I think of my friend as I walk through that same kitchen today. There are dishes piled high. A to-do list scrawled on a tablet on the counter. There are home school lessons and errands. Swim practice and basketball. Lonny's working shifts again, a new challenge for us, then there's the wild and crazy December rush.

I'm feeling a little tired. Like my friend, I need a place to rest. I know there's only one place I can go to get the deep, settling rest I long for. A rest of the spirit. A comfort of the soul. Time with the Lord in His Word. I haven't been there enough lately, but I feel the pull, the need, the frayed pieces of my heart longing to be bound and mended tight.

Lord, thank you for the comfort of Your Word. Thank you for speaking life to a tired heart. Thank you for filling me with Your promises, Your wisdom, Your direction.

Help me to make spending time with You a priority.

Help me to find You - and in the love and grace and beauty of that relationship - a quiet place to rest.

Amen.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. Psalm 91:1 NIV