Rest For Your Souls ~ The Grace Between

Rest For Your Souls

Didja ever have those days?

Those days – like today – where I end up on the wooden floor in my living room backed up against the wall, hypnotized by the dust motes floating lazily around pale, cold sunbeams. And the wall is necessary, bracing me, because I feel like crumbling.

Crumbling because today was a day that I remembered – really remembered – that the Husband is at war. He does a dangerous job in a dangerous place and not everyone gets a good hello at the end of this trip. For some, it is just ever and always, goodbye. These kind of days, they hurt with a twisted up knot in your stomach kind of hurt that won’t fade for a good long while, and gnaws hard at the edges of your composure. 

Crumbling a little under bearing up the burden of loved ones who feel like they are breaking … who are breaking. And there is nothing to do but help pick up jagged pieces and stitch some life back together with the hope of the gospel. Threads at the bottom of a deep dark well.

And, well, crumbling isn’t really an option here and so now, eyes tight shut, I’m sort of at a loss with my head up against the drywall, praying for an option that doesn’t involve running away, or the fetal position, or lots and lots of wine.

And it so happens when you hide the Truth in your heart, Truth will light up in the dark spaces. And the gossamer threads of the gospel at the bottom of the well form a ladder that I am climbing, rung by rung. 

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” {Matthew 11:28-30.}

And friends – you that love me so dear – I don’t know exactly how I eased the weight down, or when I did. But wouldn’t you know, while these words are spinning in the wheels of my foggy, sleep-deprived brain, I’m up and moving. Boiling noodles for dinner, gathering the toys, and pausing for a hug from a sleepy Superman.

I’m toiling under a yoke that seems a little lighter.

I am seeking rest for my soul from a Saviour who bears me up. 

So you, you whose burdens may not be the same shape as mine, you, having one of those days. GO. Go to Him. Go to the gospel.

~M.

Linking up with #imperfectprose and #TellHisStory.

Pin It on Pinterest