We love to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. For five minutes flat.
Rest comes slowly throughout the day, in small snippets of time. Prep periods, during a cup of tea, a phone conversation with a friend. True rest in reading the Word, in prayer, in writing. I long for what some would call a restful vacation, but really there is nothing like my own bed, my own familiar. A trip to Hawaii someday, maybe. I know I would be anxious to eventually get home, to rest in my own bed. A trip to the beach like tomorrow. I will take that as rest in the busyness. I will not feel guilty about the rest of a day away with a friend. That is hard. True rest is hard. The list in my head is endless. I just can't do it all and I am resigning myself to that reality. I am finding what is really important and mopping every week isn't one of those anymore. Rest last week was coloring with my daughter. Rest last night was laying in bed talking with my husband until 1 am. Rest is taking 5 minutes to write about rest.