Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him.
As I don't work outside the home, I usually take Fridays in stride. No big deal. Just another day in a long string of days and weeks and months.
Not so this past Friday. It is very different, indeed. Still battling the after effects of being so ill, I manage to babysit my granddaughter, Virginia Rose, all afternoon. We have fun in spite of my coughing spells and continual need to drink my hot tea soothingly flavored with lemon and honey. I am so glad to see 4:30 roll around so I can pack Virginia into the car and go pick up her mother, Sarah, from work.
I know Virginia is due for a nap when we head out, but there's nothing to be done for it. I hope she'll simply doze off in her car seat as she has so many times before. That hope is squelched by the time we exit the neighborhood.
Virginia begins to whimper like a wounded puppy. She keeps this up for a bit, getting louder and louder by the moment. I try to comfort her. Humor her. She'll have none of it! Now, she's wracked it up to full throttle, crying at the top of her lungs.
All. The. Way. To. The. Mall.
When we arrive, there is no sign of Sarah, and Virginia's meltdown continues unabated. My nerves are so shot by this point, I'm practically in tears myself. I so want to do something to make Virginia calm down, to stop crying her little eyes out, but everything I try falls on deaf ears. The tirade continues!
Sarah calls me to explain why she's late. Her boss is on a conference call and she is the only other employee in the store. She has to work the floor.
Great! Just, great! Virginia's wails rise and fall like waves on the shore. Passing shoppers stare in our direction too often for my comfort. They must think I'm the most cruel and heartless Gammie on the planet!
Just when I think I can't tolerate another moment, Virginia motions wildly to me to hand her the sippy cup full of milk. It's right there in her cup holder! Why doesn't she get it herself? But, of course, I quickly place it in her hands. The second she puts the cup to her lips, I can tell that the storm has passed. Her breathing calms. Her face, red and blotchy from her crying fit, relaxes.
She drinks. She rests.
I heave a deep sigh, and offer God a prayer of thanksgiving. Sarah is not yet here, my body feels like it's had intimate contact with a Mack truck, and all I can think about is rest. Real rest. The one in which God promises to be.
Then and there, just like all those folks who work all week long, I feel the crushing weight of Friday. It's at that moment I know how I must spend my free Saturday. Resting. Doing as little as possible. Camping out in fresh jammies to remind me not to exert, to stress, or to strain.
To let both body and soul be renewed and restored. Knowing God's salvation, His healing, is right there if I pause long enough, sincerely enough, to feel Him working in and through me.
Saturday will be a good day . . .
Have you ever experienced a time when you knew you had to put on the brakes and take a respite from your busy schedule?
Prayer: We pray, Father, that when we face times of weariness and frustration, that we turn to You to give us peace and rest. Thank You for loving us so much and for healing our infirmities in Your time. Let us remember that Your grace is always sufficient in all things. Amen.