I’m on my second cup of coffee and it’s well before 7 a.m. I’ve woken up at 5 without an alarm for the second morning in a row. This is unusual. My stomach flirts with the idea of rejecting the scalding black liquid I keep sending down into it because it wants to be asleep like my teenagers are, but I keep on sipping.
Being awake turns out to be what I need. Now I can think in straight lines. The breath of the box fan tethers my brain to the real, though, if I’m honest, the real isn’t strictly better than the dreams.
The world has lost its mind, like I’m sometimes sure I’m losing mine, and this forces me to ponder Things That Matter. Should I have had another baby, I wonder, now that the kids are stretching toward adulthood like the potted ivy on my side table? (There is nothing like housing a human in one’s core to realign everything). But there’s the self-destructing world–that giant live coal that blisters our souls as we walk on it. There’s us.
And that’s when I realize I’ve been tired for a long, long time.
I reach for my coffee mug, but this time my stomach is not playing around. I need more than caffeine can offer anyway.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light,” he says to me, to us.
I fill up my lungs, let the air out slow. I close my rusted eyes and choose to believe Him again.