I have learned not to get too concerned about going weeks without writing. Just as the tide flows out and in, my words inevitably return to beach themselves in my brain. Still, this last dry spell had me a little worried. I was not worried about disappointing my six followers by not writing, if they read my blog regularly, they are already used to disappointment. This lag was more worrisome because I have been running at a sleep and energy deficit since Tracy died and our last getaway to recharge physically, mentally, emotionally was two years ago. I was more depleted than a Tesla in Two Dot, MT.
There is scriptural support for the importance of rest both in the Old and New Testaments. God thought it was important enough to make number four in His Top Ten Commandment countdown. And Jesus, who had an incredibly crowded to do list, also made room for rest in His ministry itinerary. A believer might think spending so much time with Jesus, witnessing miracles, even performing some themselves, would have been enough excitement to keep his disciples energized, but it was not. Jesus recognized times when both He and they needed to get away to rest. I have known for a couple months that my body's low fuel light had gone from an occasional flicker to an omnipresent flare. My inability to write was just one manifestation of it. The problem was convincing Reed that he needed rest too. He did not figure that out until we got here and he finally had time to notice. Perhaps that is the reason God's sovereign schedule did not include a trip to Gig Harbor for us this year. Though I would have had time to rest, Reed would not.
And sure as the tide, by our second day here, my words wallowed out of their stagnant swamp of half formed ideas. I could think again. I could write. Which is good because there were things I needed to process in writing. Our friend Jeff May dying last week. Trump almost dying yesterday. The rest of the weary world runs on without my writing, but my world of words withers without The Rest.
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