The day commences with pain and fatigue, and we watch PBS, the little one and me. We read books. He runs living room circles, chanting. Naps early, then more PBS...
In between, minutes of facebook, e-mail, a foggy daze. Click, click, click. But never once to the living Bread.
I ask myself this question as he naps. On these foggy, heavy eyelid days of ache, why is it more restful for me to space out on facebook than to read God's Word... eat the Bread that heals?
Facebook distracts from the pain. God's Word, however, dives right into it. Takes me into the wound, deep, until I come out clean.
Clean, but not necessarily feeling better.
On these foggy days, after reading God's Word, I am left physically and mentally more exhausted than before I read. It is mental work. How can this work really bring my healing, my rest, when it makes me feel worse?
Mailman listens, and says this, "Rest doesn't come from reading your Bible. It comes from your relationship with God."
Rest comes from my relationship with God.
He suggests, on foggy days, I just take one verse and meditate on it. After all, one little crumb of that living Bread is all I need.
"That's why I've been writing verses on those index cards," I tell him. "I wanted to have just one verse to think about on days like today."
"So why didn't you do that today?"
"Because I haven't finished writing them out yet."
"So? Just start using the cards you have."
"But I have to finish them first. That's why I didn't go to the Word today. Because if I did, I would have to keep writing out verses and I was too exhausted."
Our eyes meet, and Christ declares it from the cross: It is finished.
The Mailman speaks truth. "Kati, just because you haven't finished writing the cards doesn't mean you can't start using them."
This never occurred to me. Yes, I suppose I could start using them...
Sneaky spirit of drivenness! That voice I was heeding, drivenness, telling me the work is not finished and so I may not rest. It is a lie.
More daylight passes and as the sun falls I rise to the bedroom and those index cards. Just one, he says. Why not start using them now? That Mailman has some revolutionary ideas...
I open the box and pick this one:
Mailman is washing dishes and I cannot get to the kitchen fast enough to show him this crumb!
He smiles and affirms it. "One word at a time!"
I eat this crumb and I'm filled, and I rest. And tomorrow the finished cards will be there waiting for me like manna, like the finished work of Christ on the cross.