Rest

I am driving through my neighborhood. 

Fifth delivery of the day. Bags, in their beginning and final stages. Slip pockets. Coffee. Quilted linen & thread.

I am craving a minute alone. I am spending every minute of Baby's nap. Am I spending it well? Well, none of it was spent with Him.  

I am talk-talk-talking. Sharing my heart, my life, my last shred of energy. 

I am sipping coffee, attempting to find some more. Energy.

I am late to Bible study at my own house. Our guest standing cold at the door. 

I walk inside and pick up pop-tart off the floor, drain Baby's forgotten bath water from the morning. I push aside any feelings of embarrassment. His grace is sufficient. His power perfect in weakness. 

I cling to the promise as I, the only extrovert, carry the conversation. Exhaustion gives way. {Coffee still being sipped.} 

Then somehow, again, I, in people, find rest.