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Weird Weeks

   


   He's been a little off lately. The volume has been full-scale, the naughty next-level, and he hasn't wanted me out of his sight. I've known that the upside down nature of life lately had sunk into his little spirit. Many days have been away from home and normal, many days with Mama out of routine and his world less predictable than he'd like. He doesn't understand that good things are happening, they just take phone calls and hours of paperwork. He doesn't understand that while we were temporarily away from our home, we were grateful for a warm, safe place that was almost home. He doesn't have context for the 'why' behind the break in routine, he just knows that it's not his normal. 

  His little heart and body have been expressing this intangible upset to the people around him. He is louder, bolder, shyer, poking at his playmates for attention, poking at the routines that do remain, reverting to baby voice and Mama attachment. 

   Tonight he finally climbed into my arms while music and people blasted around him, and he let me rock him a little. His body relaxed, and he asked me to rock him like a baby. Goodness, I have missed that sweet, still connection, so I scooped him up. He closed his eyes and nestled in- it's all pretty familiar still to us both. My arms and legs and heart know that dance still, and we swayed and rocked and were still inside.  Every so often he peeked an eye open to look at my face, and his little cheek squished in a half-smile of contentment. No more poking, no more loud. He needed this sleepy, rocking snuggle so bad, and he crashed headlong onto my chest- right where he started almost 4 years ago. 

   My arms started to ache as I held him, but my heart felt something else:

           My strength was giving him rest. 

   My arms have been available and offered through the weeks and weeks of weird days, but it wasn't until this day that he chose to let my strength give him rest. How many weeks and weeks of weird days have I been poking at my people, poking at my routines, loud heart, clinging to what I can, while the Father's arms have been waiting? 

  My little squish had to STOP before he could soak in the strength of my arms. He had to accept the embrace and be still- he had to stop using HIS strength before he could rest in mine. He's been in my arms so many times, but not all have brought rest like this. 

  How many times have I sat before the Lord and not experienced rest? I use my strength to tell Him all my troubles, to pray for help, even to read the word, but I so struggle to let HIS strength give me rest. 

  Goodness, friends, if there was ever a time to find rest in the Father, I say now is it. Now is the time to acknowledge the weird and that it's been weeks and weeks, and that so much is truly beyond our control or understanding. Now is the time to know that He does understand and is up to something good. Now is the time to let His strength provide rest for our weary, restless hearts. 

Matthew 11:28 "Come to me (Jesus), all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

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