I just spent the last few hours in something akin to sabbath.
Now I am sitting with the back door open, watching a storm roll in. Literally, as if something dark and heavy was spilled. And the puddle is spreading across the sky.
I feel a little guilty for just sitting here. I have no motivation. I should be doing school work. I should be working on a policy paper, reading a few books, and trying to understand equilibrium, supply, and demand.
But I'm not.
I am painfully aware of how much I need rest. My body is craving sleep. But not just sleep. Stillness. Bigness. Space.
I need room to breathe.
I feel like all my ideas and thoughts and feelings are crammed into one square foot in my brain. And I don't have room to rearrange any of it. Inside of myself ...
Well. Here comes the rain.
And the wind.
Hello, spring.
Lord Jesus, speak to me.
I have been deeply discouraged lately. In the midst of chaos and routine change, the enemy has tried to hijack my spirit.
Like a weed in my garden.
Choking the harvest that's growing. Smothering my hope.
So I'm going to sit here for a few minutes.
My Sabbath hour.
Lord Jesus, come.
What do you want from me?
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