Sunday

To be honest, I was a little reluctant to go to church Sunday night. Since I started teaching again, I have been running on fumes and trying to get everything done. A big part of me wanted to cry because I knew just how hard I had been working ... and I knew that I would be up all night trying to finish everything ... and I knew the baby would get up a couple of times ... and I knew that I would not be able to catch up on sleep for a week... However, I did not go to the night service the previous week. I knew that I was on the verge of starting a habit that I would regret. I need Sundays.



As Andrew was on stage strumming the bass guitar, the baby and I were sitting on the front pew. Sprout's attention span can only be stretched so far. His squirming became more and more intense. I needed to keep him calm. Instinctively, I held him close to me. My embrace did not allow Baby to flail his arms any longer. Gently, we rocked back and forth together. With each sway, I felt Little Man relax more and more. I kissed the head of a calm and content baby.

As I sat there holding my child, I thought about my Heavenly Father holding me. I am the first one to admit that I rely on myself way too much. I have plans for me and things around me. My persistent nature is one of my greatest gifts and one of my biggest flaws. And when things go this way and that, I flail my arms like crazy as I try to grab all of the pieces and put them back together. While there is nothing wrong about being proactive, there is definitely something wrong with taking things into your own hands. God is in control of everything. I need to allow Him to embrace me and to keep me still. Only then will I find peace and rest.