Learning to Rest

This morning was not unlike many a Sunday before it and I'm sure not unlike Sundays in the years to come.  With a husband who is out the door early to help serve at church, the task of packing up our wee ones and getting them out the door in a state where our hearts and our clothes are not disheveled and our bellies and our souls are more full than empty falls on me. And more often and than not these days I am somewhat sleep deprived.

So like I said, it was a Sunday like many others. We managed to get out the door fairly unscathed and were even able to have good conversation in the car as we prepared our hearts for church. As always, I was so blessed to worship with our sweet church family and was so grateful our three little peanuts sat quietly and almost attentively in their chairs during the service.

One would say we were rather put together today.

And then church ended.

On the way to the car, the 4 year old fell in the parking lot and although she was quick to recover, the first of many wailing episodes ensued. By the time we got home the baby who should have still been sleeping awoke and all three children decided they were starving. 

And in case you didn't know the craziest thing happens to small children on Sundays after church.  Because without fail, babies' naps and eating schedules are awry and toddlers are starving and exhausted as naptime is just minutes away, their little legs turn to jelly and they just. can't. walk.

Insert wailing.

I hefted one of them semi-dangling from my hip, grabbed the infant carseat and stumbled inside.  Our entryway became a pile of shoes and clothes and children and injuries.  More wailing.

And then the baby really woke up. So much wailing. How can a baby who is so sweet, so pleasant change so quickly when she realizes she is hungry. Perhaps she gets this from her mother.

I managed to throw our simple lunch on the table (I do try to plan ahead in the attempt to "sabbath" on Sundays) and sat down for just a moment to nurse a babe...who was still starving 10 minutes later.  More wailing. Oh my.

And then it happened.

The cold coffee spilled on my lap, the baby spit up and liquefied egg yoke dripped down my arm.  The toddlers were finished with lunch and were still suffering from jelly-leg syndrome, the baby cried.when she was put down and somehow my eyes were opened to the state of our home--dishes, clothes, toys, madness everywhere.  I don't "sabbath" in madness.  I've tried.

Finally I managed to lug the jellyfish up the stairs to their beds, tucked them in, with more "harrumph" in my voice than I'd like to admit I chanted our traditional "Mama loves you but most of all..." and they replied with much more energy than two children who are supposed to be napping momentarily should exude, "Jesus loves me!"

Door closed.

Please note the baby is still crying.

I fell into my rocker and finally relaxed enough to nurse my sweet baby. And for a few moments got to ponder the message today and how humbled I am to have ears that hear truth...that in the midst of what seemed like madness I could stop, remember that the good news of the Gospel is not just for those who have never heard, but for this stale coffee stench-ed, spit-up stained, egg yolk-covered, sleep-deprived mama who was just about to unmercifully bolt in and somehow make those two sisters sleep. 

But in that moment, with the ears given me to hear, He spoke and I heard 
   
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. ~II Corinthians 12:9

Ah rest, sweet Sabbath for the soul.  His grace, extended to a weak mama. 

But don't think the story stops there.  I was awoken from my rest with a precious, sleepy baby in my arms by the blaring beep of the girls' monitor alarming me that someone was out of bed.  Laying down the sleeping babe, I quickly extinguished the problem with some firm grace (although I suppose I shouldn't use the word "extinguish" when speaking of discipline?) walked right past the crooked lampshade, down the stairs pushing aside the stack of clothing, through the warzone of our house and sat down at our cluttered dining room table, head in hands, and took a deep breath.


"I will boast more gladly of my weakness, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

So much weakness.  Feeling as if I am failing at my sure calling of being a wife and mama, I was reminded of His grace--the unearned, undeserved favor and kindness He extends and depths of His mercy and remember that in eternity, the state of my living room floor one Sunday won't be remembered but the state of my soul will echo through eternity.  My soul who needs to be reminded often that what is seen in eternity is the covering and sacrifice of Grace made flesh, who lived a life of perfection I can't come close to and a perfect sacrifice, purchasing His bride on the cross.

And I remembered Christmas.  How could I have so quickly forgotten that through the lens of Christmas, we must see Calvary.?  It is in the completion of Calvary alone that we find rest.

I just realized that I'm still wearing the egg-shirt and my house is still somewhat in disarray but my family is peacefully tucked into their bed with memories of how this Sunday we Sabbathed, and found rest for our souls.  For His Grace is sufficient.

And I'm praying that today is not unlike Sundays in the years to come.