But then get up. That’s the hard part. The getting back in the saddle. The returning to the battle. The rising up, taking hold, marching on.
The children would choose the easy sleep in the morning, rather than the harder rise. They’d keep themselves tucked and cozy, if I allowed.
Once in a while, yes, I allow.
But most mornings I don’t. They get up to breakfast and scripture and a few minutes with Dad around the table before he leaves for work. And it’s outside for chores and inside for math and there are beds to make and toilets to clean.
The youngest boy, he’s felt a little beaten up lately. Life has seemed especially hard, with friends moving and a sore throat and the almost-needing-stiches gash above his eye. And he has a cold sore on his lip. He’s been full of heavy sighs and why me’s and this morning, when I call him to the breakfast table, he just… can’t… quite… make… it.
So he rests for a bit, right there on the kitchen floor, through the porridge and the scripture and the visiting with Dad.
But he can’t stay there, or his rest will quickly become an obstacle. He’ll be stepped on and frowned at and resented by the other children.
Rest, yes. But then get up.
Do the hard rise, and carry on. Face what must be faced, do what must be done.
Today, don’t let rest become the goal. Instead, let it be the motivation. There are good things waiting out there for the well-rested you and me to be doing.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
It’s been almost two years since I first published this. I’m needing the reminder this week, when life is pressing and deadlines are looming and much is calling… to do the hard rise and to carry on.