I’m leaning back in the bath now.
My hair’s all up in a messy bun, I have a few candles dancing, and I’m calming a little.
I’ve reached relaxation.
This week has left me worn and it’s only Wednesday.
My husband has had meetings with folks well into the evening hours as of late – something he enjoys and embraces – but it’s hard on the homeschooling Mama.
Bless him, he has been trying to protect these dusky hours – but it couldn’t really be helped this week. The weekend and weeks ahead will be filled with more of the same, and I’m glad for it. A pastor who perches with the people is a pastor who knows the needs, longings, praises, and frailties of his faith-family. And that’s good. I remember Eugene Peterson saying so somewhere along the way.
And it all evens out somehow. I know. There are sweet perks to being a pastor’s wife, for sure. But here on this hump day eve I’m parched a smidge.
So I’m curled up in water so warm, with easy acoustic drifting, allowing my thoughts to do the same.
It’s crazy how creativity comes in rest, isn’t it? That part of the mind and spirit fires off fast when we slow.
Even if the Sabbaths are but moments long – take the tiny retreats. Sweet things will spurn up out of the stillness.
In case you’re wondering – I don’t type while I’m in the tub. I use pen and paper and then copy it over. And really, there is something even about this – the pen in hand, the paper going from blank to doodled, the process of penning something on papyrus, that makes the imagination fly in an interesting way. I’m grateful for screens, but sometimes a simple pad of paper just blesses a writer.
Even still, I’ve moved out of the liquid and am now punching keys at my dining/schooling/crafts/legos/art/writing table. A flame flickers here too, and I’m listening for the train choo my phone gives when the husband texts to tell me he is on his way. That, and the sound of his keys in the door lock – are happy tones to me.
I should really wrap up my store list for tomorrow’s early grocery run, blow out all the hot wax I have burning, start the blessed dish washer, and lay down for shuteye. Both my guy and I rise early now, well before dawn, to fit in all the fine things a day holds. So, making my way to slumber would be the smart thing.
But his absence keeps me stirring, and in the on position.
I won’t rest fully until I find him here with me.
There is a roly polie habitat that is sitting to my right. It was made by my children from a recycled strawberry container. It’s reminding me that I have three spry blondes in there who will be expecting me to be up and at ’em when they are tomorrow.
Even though I might not fully doze off to dreaming before the husband arrives, I should at least bundle up under blankets with a book – to try and gear myself down into the right direction for the evening.
Find a day, an hour, a moment – to let your mind rest somehow during the tail end of this week here, friends. We only live harried for so long. At some point, we have to find the hush.
I’ll look forward to meeting you back here early next week. Until then, look for tucked away moments that will allow creativity to fly.
