Soul Rest

You ever have those days where you do all the things? I knew that yesterday was going to be one of those days. It was a long drive, a birthday celebration, lots of walking, lots of treats and treat food, then more driving, then groceries (I actually had to go into the store and buy my own groceries, ick…at Walmart. Shiver down my spine...), then home to make dinner, etc., etc. We sat down to dinner at 7 O' clock and I was quite pleased with myself. Did it. Yes, it was over an hour later than usual dinner time, but it actually wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. After dinner, my husband and I chatted while the girls got some good outside time. Usually we start the bedtime process around 7:30 pm (did I mention that the alarm clock goes off at 4:30 am? Just checking.), so the girls were on bonus playtime. Then we finally called them in at 8 pm and sent them off to get ready for bed.

This is where my youngest got on the struggle bus. We had talked about maybe playing one of the new games that she had gotten for her birthday and she thought that was still on the table. But it was 8 O' clock. She had been dying to play since she got it a few days earlier and we just kept running out of day. Like we did again. We tried to reason with her that she had run off and used her time outside. I don't know if she was overly tired or if everything in her just truly needed to play that game, but her syncopated sobbing and crocodile tears just broke my mommy heart. It was already late after a long day and we were all trying to get back on a good sleep/wake schedule (like always). She cried through brushing her teeth, flopped herself in bed and covered her head with her new heating blanket. When I finished buttoning up the house I had to dig my sweaty little munchkin out from her heat saoked down comforter. What was reavealed was a downcast little lamb. Normally, my youngest is just pure joy. It is who God made her. But not this night. This night, her spark had gone. I hugged her, I kissed her, I tried so hard to make her laugh. We talked about how we would definitely play tomorrow and she reluctantly accepted and agreed like a good girl. But she did not smile. The corner of her mouth turned in an attempt, but she was hurt; her twinkle had been robbed and nothing was working to bring it back. I kissed both girls, conflicted about standing my ground or making myself available to love her the way she needed in that moment. I got all the way to my room, brushed my teeth and washed my face. Angst. Mommy angst. Then I told my husband, “I think this is one of those times where I need to do the thing. I'm going to go play a round of her new game with her.”

I crept back into her room and dangled the game in front of her and asked, “will you play with me?” That was it. That did it. She shot out of bed and hugged me. It was an hour past my bedtime at this point, but what I needed to do that night was tell her that I loved her...with a game, with my time. Over and over she said, in her sweetest little voice that she uses when she feels especially lovey, “thanks for playing with me mommy.” She followed every other show of gratitude with a squeezy hug and that little freckled face looked up at me with hearts in her eyes... there is no way to describe it. When you know that you have loved your kid in the way that only you can and that their bucket is full to the brim because of the choice that you made...? Worth it. What's a little sleep deprivation anyway? One more speed bonus round and she happily tucked into bed, love bucket full, content and ready to willingly float off to dreamland.

Next, I smooched my oldest who was deep into drawing land by now and headed off to wind down with my library book before going to sleep myself.

It was a good book, reminded me of Pride and Prejudice. Just one more chapter. Last one. Okay, this one for sure though...

Thirty minutes later...my oldest came into the room. “Can I sleep in here?” Some yucky Halloween images had apparently snuck into our world and disrupted her ability to calmly slip off to sleep. “Sure, sweetie.” She gratefully tucked herself into the extra sleeping bag next to the bed . As I glanced down I saw that she had propped up her latest amazing drawing creation next to her sleep spot and was contentedly gazing upon it as she prepared to doze off.

I finally put my book down and got up to use the restroom once last time before calling it a night. As I came back into the room, she stood tall, oh so tall, right outside the bathroom door. “I'm hungry!”

“Okay, you can have some milk, banana or peanut butter, but I'm not hanging out.” I tried to sound firm. “Okaaay,” she reluctantly accepted, “but I don't like to be alone,” she trailed off as she looked down. So I stood in the kitchen with my eyes closed and arms around my tall, beautiful goldilocks while she licked peanut butter and slurped milk in my face. I think my body was already starting the first stage of falling asleep; I got shorter. She finished and went to take care of her cup and spoon. I leaned on the wall and ran my finger along one of the many Bible verses on the walls of our house, this one at the corner of the kitchen by the light switch. I was ready to kill the lights asap. I sleepily ran my finger along Matthew 11:28-30...

“Come to Me all who are weary and heavy-laden...”

I chuckled. Yea...check.

“And I will give you rest.”

He says He will give me rest. I ached for rest.

“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me...”

Learn from Me, from “My example” I felt in my heart. Did Jesus turn the children away? Did Jesus make sleep His priority? Or did He face many tired and hungry days willingly and joyfully so that He could do His Father's will and minister to His children. “Learn from Me.” How did I love?

“For I am gentle and humble in heart.”

Jesus doesn't get snappy or short-fused. He would have gently pulled her in and loved her in her humanness, in her need, in her vulnerability.

“...and you will find rest for your souls.”

Big. Deep. Sigh. I let the corner of the wall hold me up and I opened the depths of my spirit to this “soul rest”. Physical sleep may or may not come, I had learned that (see my blog “Quitting Coffee”), but this soul rest? He promises to give it if we come to Him. I want soul rest.

“For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

Easy. Light. It is not hard to play a game with basic addition and it does not require skill or extreme stamina to stand in the kitchen and sniff peanut butter. It is not a difficult thing to be present and love my kids, but it is a choice that I have to make minute by minute, day by day, often times over my own comfort or fleshly desires.

“Thank You, Lord.”

We turned off the kitchen lights, prayed once more and turned ourselves into fluffy burritos. As we closed our eyes, I heard once more, “Thanks mommy. I love you.” “I love you too baby.”

I snuggled into my bed and exhaled the same sigh of contentment I had heard over an hour earlier.

Soul rest. It was 11 O' clock, but my bucket was full. Because I had filled theirs.

Just as much as my kids need me to take the time to love them, I NEED to pour out my love upon them. I need to walk in my purpose as the only one in all of history who was chosen to be their mom. Me. It's my job, that I was created for and there is nothing, nothing at all that compares to the full bucket of knowing that I went to bed with children who were well loved today and they know it.

Praise Jesus. Thank you for Your words that brought me to this amazing restful place of Truth.

It wasn't just another night of staying up too late. It was a night well spent.

This is my purpose.

Quitting Coffee

It's been a weird season. Not any personal tragedies and actually there has been a lot of really great trips and experiences over these last few months of summer, but now that it is the end of August I can look back and say, “Huh...that was a weird season.” I won't go back too far. A big part of this weirdness has to do with the fact that I have felt compelled, convicted and called to quit coffee. And it may be caffeine too, maybe sugar... I don't know. Let's just start with the coffee. It's been years of this tug, maybe decades if I was able to see it earlier. It could be that the anxiety I began to experience around 12 years old had something to do with the Vanilla Nescafe that I started drinking out of that rectangle tin can around the same time. And well, that was probably also related to the insomnia that had its hooks in me until the good Lord healed me at 36. Yes, you did the math correctly, 24 years of insomnia. Side note, sleep deprivation as a new mom was an old shoe for me, so, ya know, that's... good.

Anyway, that still small Voice, the One that is so gentle and kind, He's been nudging me for a long time. BUT COFFEE GUYS! I am 100% NOT here to tell you to stop drinking coffee. My family has a thick history of heart issues and I have dealt with anxiety for as long as I can remember (which isn't that far back, which I am thinking is probably also related to the sleep deprivation).

But I am not here to play you my tiny violin. I am here to tell a story that has a point and it glorifies God, which is why we are all here, yea? About half way through summer the food sensitivities that my girls and I have been dealing with turned an ugly corner and things that I thought were good-to-go sent my kid into a food-poisoning-like response...while tent camping. This, for the record, is the opposite of awesome. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that I did not sleep at all that night. It took another trip a few weeks later to determine the culprit after repeated results. Then one more for good measure with a different trigger which ended with me walking through the Best Western at midnight toting a recycle bucket full of puke. 'Cause who wants to call room service in the middle of the night and say, “Hi, yea, my kid is puking up here, can you come and pick up her bucket of vomit...?” So I made the decision to go for a walk and find an outdoor receptable to deposit said slop into while awkwardly interrupting the guy that was calling his wife as I blooped the nasty bag through the side hole of one of those skinny, shiny trashcans that they have in hotels. Got that image? Good.

So no sleep. Again. Actually, I hadn't really been sleeping through the night ever since that first camping trip. So I did what any logical person would do and I searched scripture to justify my continued coffee drinking with verses, “grace” and intellect. “Thanks, Lord!” I sort of winked and offered a metaphorical thumbs up and cheese ball grin. I got what I wanted.

Then we were watching a movie one night and my heart did like a uh, theatrical pounding on the door, like when the SWAT team knocks. I knew. I knew then that I had trusted in my own understanding and tried to justify something that the Lord was kindly and gently telling me was no longer beneficial or even permissive for me.

“Okay, Lord.” I huffed.

So, over the course of the next couple days, I climbed up and put coffee on the altar before the Lord. “Here you go, Lord. It's Yours.” I then skulked away like an apologetic kid still painfully aware of how wrong it was to justify sin with scripture. “Sorry, Lord.” I knew better. I kicked some dirt and hung my head, knowing what I needed to do.

Guys, I really, really like coffee. Like, I actually like it. Black. Hot. I love how it tastes, the ceremony around it and how it makes me feel. And I LOVE pounding a cup of coffee and then knocking out a kick-butt work out. But before you today, I want the whole world to know... I love Jesus more. And even though it took a while to get it through my thick skull, my heart is to obey and love the Lord above all else. Yes, even coffee.

We all giggle over how we “run” on coffee or java is the only reason that we got out of bed, but it begs the question, “If I am getting through the day on coffee, then how will others see me trusting in the Lord?” Short answer, they don't. They won’t. They’ll see me doing it all in my own flesh. And I was pretty darn good at that for a long time. Now, maybe because I'm older and health complications seem so much more real and possible after you turn forty, or maybe because my kids are older and I'm seeing their long term futures more readily, but I've come to see that it's just not worth it. Not only that, but when I rely on anything other than God, then I miss out on getting to experience His exciting, miraculous provisions; His filling.

So I quit. Probably for the 27th time. But for real this time. No seriously guys. For real, for real.

Ugh, I don't even want to tell anyone because I struggle to believe my own resolve. Lord, it is up to You. Help me to want to obey You. Wince. Put it in my heart to desire You above all else.

Great okay, quit coffee. That's gotta help with my sleep problems!

Commence 4 solid weeks of extreme sleep disruptions.

Oh how that dark elixir sparkled in the cup... 'cause you know that my husband wasn't quitting. That Mr. Coffee would gurgle and sputter and steam and the bright blue light (referred to as the Blue Devil in our house) would blink and twinkle at me in the wee morning hours.

“No! NO. I quit.” Did the coffee just “bwah-ha-ha” at me?!

I kept thinking, “tonight, this will be the night that I actually sleep.” By the way, my Garmin watch pretty much indicated that I was near dead based on my “stress” and “body battery” levels. Then one groggy day as I slogged through my Bible study, I had a thought. “What if this was a testing period?” Physiology and caffeine withdrawals aside, looking at it from a purely spiritual viewpoint, this, I believe was my testing period. “Okay, Chelsea. You are giving up coffee? Good. But what happens when you get tired? What happens when you get really, really tired?” Uuuuuugggggghhhhhh...insert Garlfield comic here, ya know where he is on-his-face-tired and crawling toward the coffee pot.

3 or 4 weeks of this and then one day I awoke with “ting!” and thought, “I think I actually slept!” I have only had a few of these nights and I am still figuring it out, but I truly believe that God gave me this difficult season of fatigue to confirm my decision to obey Him, to strengthen my resolve and to show me that He does truly sustain and strengthen us. Spoiler alert: I did not die. Through that season of sleeplessness I failed to get up at my usual, disciplined 4:45 am. Let’s be honest, I didn’t even try to. I was sleeping in, or at least laying in bed until I couldn't lay in bed anymore. I would still get up and read my Bible, but it wasn't the same. God is still good and He still speaks in His grace and faithfulness, but it's not the same when everyone is up and chattering and the chores start to call and the laundry buzzes.

So yesterday, I did it. I got up with my husband at O' dark thirty and did my early morning study in the still quiet of the dawn and it was uh-mazing! Not necessarily any great revelations, but just peace. Peace and calm. Comfort and relationship. Rest and familiarity with the One I love. Guys, it charged me up. I was so pumped after being filled with God's Word and His love! I ran intervals on the treadmill and even found a new favorite workout song (Christian, Spanish, Rap, Worship...so good.)!

This is how I want to start my days with the God Who Provides, the God Who Sustains. He is good, so, so good. And He drives me forward into the day in a way that coffee never could.

Do you have to quit coffee? No. Maybe. I don't know. But just make sure that you are listening and obeying what He has called you to. You know what it is. It's that thing that just keeps lingering in your mind, coming back like a fly buzzing your head. He put it there for a reason. It is part of your purpose; what you are supposed to do, or not do. Don't be like me and take years to comply with a calling that is custom designed to bless you.

Obey Him and put Christ first. Know that He will sustain you. Know that apart from Him we can do nothing (John 15:5), but through Christ, in His will, there is NOTHING we can't do (Phil 4:13).