There is this moment with my son – when he is in his swing
and I can tell he’s tired but doesn’t want to sleep. I put the pacifier in his
mouth, he fights it and moves his head around. But the moment always comes,
when he starts working on that pacifier with a vengeance, his eyes roll back in
his head, and sleep takes him. This is the most satisfying moment of my day,
because whether or not he thinks he wants it, I’ve helped my Milo find peace
and rest.
I feel a little like him in that middle moment all the time,
the one where comfort and rest are offered, and I kick them off thinking I
don’t want them. But I need them.
So I fill up the spaces in my life. Checking email. Looking
at my phone. Reading baby forums that I kind of hate. Scrolling through social
media. Checking email again. Never surrendering to the quiet places in life.
And then complaining about being tired.
The state of my soul is directly linked to the space I give
it.
If I had to give my faith a color, I’d say that over the
course of the last few years, it’s turned to a purplish gray. More gray than
purple. It used to be pretty bright, maybe even teal. I’m not even sure what it
is I’m looking for anymore, and have serious doubts about my faith ever
becoming that bright, untarnished teal again. But my hope and prayer is that
maybe if I start giving my soul a little space again (this is directly tied to
the minutes in every day that I don’t look at my cell phone), the colors can
start to wake back up.
As many times as I try to kick them away, peace and rest for
my tired soul call my name.
2 comments:
These are good words you choose. I can so relate to this, bet everybody can in some way, on some level. Even the faith part - I feel like the past several years, far too much time snacking on apples with the snake, not enough time just hanging out in the garden. Knowledge/information are great - necessary, even - but you have to shut the gate sometimes, right? Good thoughts, good expression of them. Nice idea, this blogging...
Yes. I fight the quiet, and always have - even before Facebook and iPhones. Thanks for the reminder that my soul only flourishes when I give it some rest. The lessons our children teach us...priceless.
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