I find myself in you –


You nourish the soft silhouette that

has found home:

my bones.


I seek to find you –


You strengthen the frame that

upholds these:



I long to find you –


You replenish this weary

exhausted and desperate:



I’m craving rest, respite, parenthesis.


I know it’s normal for life to feel this way with a bigger family. Having a newborn, a toddler, a child with a disability, this is life. Sure, that may explain the chaos but that newborn has saved me some days, that toddler has taught me I’m not beyond self control, and that precious boy who is plagued by disability, he smashes into me with love and unrelenting forgiveness.


White knuckles are part of my wardrobe these days. We get by, get though, just get home before…(insert urgent need here). For my entire life, I was the on time girl – a quality my mother passed on. That was until children, multiple of them became a part of my life. Rushing, walking in last minute, and needing to potty for prolonged periods (because who has time to sit for a moment) are my day.


Enough is enough, right. I know I’m told to grin and bear it, it’s only a season, you’ll laugh later. But, what about right now? These moments that are spent frustrated as we drive across town to drop off my son at kindergarten, late. We could be singing Laurie Berkner songs together and laughing as my husband’s voice cracks. We could release the reins and just plan on picking up all the crumbs (or complete meals) up off the floor after breakfast and let them be little learners. We could cancel that one appointment that overwhelms our day and get big pretzels to eat while we watch the squirrel outside, instead.


Rest. Rest. Rest.


I hear you, I get it.


I’m slowing down, today, this moment.


God provides.

Our lives are full of quality right now.

The relationships that are a part of our lives are rich, they fulfill us.

The stability we feel in resources is plenty, we have enough.

The love we have is solid, rest easy.

No need for building, collecting, or freeting.




Slowing down is comfortable and the respite we need.


My arms are open wide.

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