I've taken the day off for me. And I've felt good about it. Rested.
Productive, yet Rested.
In one moment, the peace I savor feels invaded. I almost feel suffocated.
He walks in and it's less cheer and more fear that I feel.
Because of his mood.
His lack of enthusiasm sours my heart. Curt responses hurt my feelings before we've even been in the same room longer than 30 seconds.
Taking one long deep breath, I reach for my Father. Calling out for His peace, I fear myself--that I'll choose revenge for how his attitude so quickly invaded me.
In calling to Him, I See something I didn't expect.
How we are connected--as one--is why I hurt.
His feelings overwhelm me and make me ache inside. I can feel his pain. He is tired and I suddenly feel it, too; though I'd rather not.
Our Father feels our pain and He never begrudges us for the times when we don't choose His peace.
This Truth rings so loudly in my ear. And suddenly, I am just thankful for how we are connected.
I am on my knees in gratitude, and in surrender of my own tranquility. I choose to allow his anxious, tired, bereaved feelings to be a part of our home. I choose to accept him as he is right now, though it's a hard choice.
And there I find it again--Rest.
In the choosing Him through him, there is Peace and Rest.
"Write for five, short, bold beautiful minutes...
Unscripted and unedited...
Without worrying if it's just right or not."