yesterday was supposed to be my day off. i have been trying lately to set aside a 'sabbath' every week where i intentionally rest in god and take a break from non-urgent work. (obviously, i still have meals to cook and butts to wipe and legs to shave. haha. no, i don't shave my legs on the sabbath, sucka!) so anyway, yesterday was it. i was looking forward to it in all its nasty-pajamas-all-day glory.
but then. i got out of bed. i went downstairs. i heard atticus crying. i found him laying in his bed in a puddle of his own barf. yes, it was the most pathetic sight ever, and yes, i did selfishly take a second to mourn all my plans for down-time.
but you know what? god showed up in the barf. (not like a jesus'-face-in-some-toast kind of way; i didn't see a literal vision of god in the chunks. i'm talking spiritually. circumstantially.)
i've been kind of a brat lately, being all, 'i know you promise rest for those who trust you, god, but that's intangible. what if what i need is actual, physical rest, and not just some fuzzy feelgoods while i drag my exhausted lump of a body through this life? what good does that do me?' and i think it's a valid question, but that's probably just because brats tend to find their dumb attitudes justifiable.
so, on tuesday, i was doing what brats do and airing my grievances to my connection group (it's like a bible study on steroids and also at disneyland). and one girl was all, 'can you ever actually have physical rest if you don't have spiritual rest? like, if you're not at peace with god, even if you get a bunch of down-time, can you really enjoy it?' and i was all, 'touche, connection groupie.' and i noodled on that the rest of the night.
so zip back to yesterday: here i was cleaning up barf sheets, and trying nurse laurelai while i sat on the bathroom floor rubbing atticus' heaving, clammy back. and i wasn't anxious. i wasn't annoyed. i wasn't stressed or disappointed. i wasn't even really thinking about the fact that i wasn't any of those things. i just...was. i just did what i needed to do, and prayed while i did it, and was at peace in the midst of the whole thing.
god gave me spiritual rest on a day when my physical rest had been taken from me.
and that is one of the many, many things i love about god: he's sweet. he's so sweet to me. to us. he didn't treat me like the bawlbaby ingrate that i am. he gave me what i needed when i didn't know it was what i needed, and when i wasn't prepared to be grateful for it. he listened to me piss and moan about how his promises aren't enough for me, and he still followed through on his promise anyway.
and i was once again humbled - not guilty! - before this loving, sweet, protective god i desperately need.
it was a very good, very restful sabbath. also, my biggest fear (that someone will barf on my living room rug) wasn't realized, so that was awesome in a silver-medal-in-awesomeness kind of way.