“Wilbur didn’t want food, he wanted love.” ~ E.B. White
Stopping is the hardest thing to do.
Stopping chores . . . stopping busyness . . . stopping my mind.
Being comes at a close second.
Being present . . . being available . . . just being.
Taking off the teacher-hat, taking the school calendar off the wall, taking my list of “goals for the year” and shoving it is harder this year than any year before.
Is it because the kids are a little bit older? And I think I should be accomplishing a little bit more?
Is it because this parenthood thing really does involve a lot of serving, and there’s no getting around that? And there’s meals to be cooked and dishes to be done and laundry to be put away, and it’s our gift and honor and our responsibility to serve them?
Is it because I’m trying to prove something? Fill something? Finish something? Be something?
Or is it because you’ve forgotten Who really makes the world spin. Who clothes the lilies, though they neither sow nor reap. Who feeds the birds, though they flit and sing all day.
Is it because you’ve forgotten what He invited you to do . . . to rest.
Jesus rested. He pulled away from the crowds when He needed to. He knew His Father would take care of everything.
The Father rested. Six days to make the world turn and fill it with beautiful things, and the seventh to rest. He knew His work was good.
And I think I have to create good work. Who am I competing with? Have I forgotten Who’s made all the best work, already?
And it turns out that Rest is just another name for Trust. Because when I can trust that He takes care, that He does good . . . that He is care, that He is good . . . then I can lay down my heavy burdens.
I will trust You, Lord. I will trust that You will take care of everything. I will trust that You’ve given us all the moments we need, and that they’ll add up to something beautiful . . . even (especially) if I can’t understand or plan them all. I will trust You enough to close the calendar . . . to sit on the driveway and watch a dump truck pass by with him . . . to eat a popsicle on the porch with her . . . to play dolls when she asks me to . . . to walk down Main Street holding his hand. To walk to the library instead of driving there (and using it as an excuse to run a million errands).
I’ll trust You enough to give my time away . . . because You gave me time . . . and You gave me Your time. And You gave me time to rest.
“He says, ‘I removed the burden from their shoulders; their hands were set free from the basket. In your distress you called and I rescued you . . . But you would be fed with the finest of wheat; with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.” (Psalm 81:6 – 7, 16)
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