I haven’t written a blog for a couple of weeks, and for good reason: My daughter-in-law delivered a wee baby boy on December 6th—a month early. Baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and as a result, he was immediately placed in the NICU. Our son phoned us with the news early that morning and said, “We have no idea how long we’ll be here. Can you please come to stay with the kids while we’re away?”
“Of course,” Gene and I said. We threw a few clothes into a gym bag and rushed to catch the next ferry to Vancouver Island.
Babysitting the kids—seven of them—brought sheer delight. And exhaustion. I cooked for a small army, wiped little bottoms, changed diapers, settled minor squabbles, played board games, washed and folded clothes, cooked for a small army (did I already say that?), got kids dressed for their Sunday school Christmas pageant, and even took a hike through the forest with my two oldest grandsons.
Lots and lots of mac and cheese!
I chose to be present in the moment and basically checked out of social media. Besides, by day’s end I was too tired to do anything but crash on the couch for a few minutes before falling into bed.
“Jesus—strength,” became my prayer. He answered by giving me a good night’s sleep and the energy to keep doing what needed to be done.
One morning, Gene came to me and whispered, “Would you please pray for me? I have a toothache. It really hurts.”
“Jesus—healing,” I prayed. I wish I could say Gene’s tooth instantly felt better. It didn’t. But he did manage to see a dentist and get a prescription for antibiotics. This week, on Tuesday, he’ll have a root canal. “Jesus—healing,” I’m praying again.
I’ve committed four days this week to helping our youngest daughter and her husband pack their household as they prepare to move north. David is in medical school and has been assigned to the University of British Columbia’s Prince George campus for his studies. Kim is expecting their first child in May.
I’ll be honest—I’m not excited about packing them up and sending them so far away. My heart feels heavy, but my hands are open. I bless them for following God’s path even though it means we won’t see them as often as in the past five years.
“Jesus—peace,” will be my prayer as I wrap dishes and pack books and belongings. This one’s a big ask, but I’m trusting Him to answer.
As Christmas approaches, we celebrate Jesus as the Savior who came as a helpless baby. But let’s also celebrate Him as the One who gives us rest when we’re tired and carries our burdens when we’re overwhelmed.
Three times last week, the Lord brought Matthew 11:28-30 across my path: “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke fits perfectly, and the burden I give you is light.”
Almighty God, the Great Physician, the Prince of Peace has come.
Exhale stress. Inhale His soothing presence.
Rest.
#bgbg2 #ReleaseStress #InnerPeace
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