Tired

I love this picture. It took someone else pointing it out to me, but once they did it really spoke to me.

My little Ethan, exhausted at the baseball the other night finally just cuddled up to his daddy and collapsed. In the midst of a busy Angel Stadium, where the All-Stars Celebrity softball game was going on, Ethan just laid his head down and fell fast asleep.

Neal's shirt, "Tired?" It says, and the back completes the invitation, Matthew 11:28 reads, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Neal offered the same invitation to Ethan, and holding onto his daddy Ethan found a safe place to rest his head. He took a good long nap, and felt better for it after he woke up.

I can relate to Ethan in this picture. I'm worn out, spiritually, physically, emotionally. I'm drained. Ethan was tired because we had been running for days, it was fun and family, but it was busy and chaotic and he didn't stop at night to get the rest he needed. It's much of the same for me. It's just life, going on, and on, and I'm not stopping, taking the time to rest and refuel at the foot of Jesus. I keep busy on the track I'm on, and I look back and I think, "I'll get there," but I never do. And I'm running out of gas.

I fell asleep on Neal for a few minutes at that softball game too. Despite Ethan's argument his dad was his pillow, he was big enough we shared, and for a few minutes I was still long enough to get a short power nap, but it wasn't much for me. Unlike Ethan who fell into a deep rest, as soon as I heard Jacob say "Mom's asleep too?" From behind my dark glasses I assured him I was still awake, and I shook off the intention of finding a moment's respite and got myself up and moving again.

I think perhaps I have been doing that spiritually too. I find a moment to rest, or maybe better to say I intend to find a moment to rest but life calls out to me, "Diana's resting," and I hop back up and say, "No, I'm not" and I move forward with whatever strength I can muster, strength out of the shallow waters of self.

I notice with the weariness that has been allowed to rule, that my flesh has risen with it. My patience level is down, my propensity for irritation is high. I am a reactor and not a responder, and the reactions aren't pretty. I don't really like the person I have been lately, and I think it's because I have been far to much of me in all carnality, and there's been very little evidence of the Spirit of God who lives in me.

Like hair dryer pulled too far from the wall socket, my power source flusters and spurts and isn't working effectively.

I think if I really stopped long enough and really looked, I think I just might find my Jesus standing there, my Daddy God with a big t-shirt that says, "Tired?" And he makes the same invitation, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

It's such a simple and heartfelt invitation. He wants me to come with my weariness, and lay my head on his heart, so He can offer me the strength I need. He offers me the deep well of rest that comes from Him, and I keep splashing about in the shallow puddle of self, wearing myself so thin.

May I have the wisdom of my nine-year-old and just stop in the midst of the chaos and the crowds and lay my head on His chest, and allow Him to put His arm around me and give me the rest and strength I need.