My biggest little person is home with a fever. She is sleeping on the sofa next to me as I write.
The house is quiet except for the jeans tumbling in the dryer and the whirr of other household appliances hard at work while I think. And her breathing.
She wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep on the sofa had I not picked her up from school. She’d still be in math or history or taking her books back to the school library. She wouldn’t be at peace in her place of peace in this home.
And I’m next to her, setting out an offering of words and hoping they are worthy.
I wonder if all we really need to quiet our hearts and our minds is knowing that there is someone solving problems while we sleep. That we don’t have to do it, really. There is someone working, someone watching, someone waking us when it is time.
Maybe that full body, full heart, full mind rest is a result of full trust.
From the time she was 2 months old until she crawled up on my chest in all the days after Kindergarten, she used to nap with me. When she was tiny, I’d “borrow” her from her morning nap and we’d take it together in front of the Today show. When she was bigger, I’d lie on the sofa, she’d put her little girl body against mine and we’d watch Sesame Street together. Usually she’d close her eyes after a few minutes, sink her growing limbs into mine and doze off.
When I think of her being little, I think of these times.
And now she is fully resting, fully trusting in the same way curled up in a blanket trying to fend off a fever. And in this room the peace is tangible.
God, help me to trust you in this same way: with my whole heart and whole mind and with my whole body. Let me trust and rest and curl up next to You, knowing that you are hard at work while I sleep.
Thirty-one Days of Rest | click here
What are your thoughts today on peace and rest and trust?