Rest For Your Souls

February 12, 2014

Didja ever have those days?

Those days – like today – where I end up on the wooden floor in my living room backed up against the wall, hypnotized by the dust motes floating lazily around pale, cold sunbeams. And the wall is necessary, bracing me, because I feel like crumbling.

Crumbling because today was a day that I remembered – really remembered – that the Husband is at war. He does a dangerous job in a dangerous place and not everyone gets a good hello at the end of this trip. For some, it is just ever and always, goodbye. These kind of days, they hurt with a twisted up knot in your stomach kind of hurt that won’t fade for a good long while, and gnaws hard at the edges of your composure. 

Crumbling a little under bearing up the burden of loved ones who feel like they are breaking … who are breaking. And there is nothing to do but help pick up jagged pieces and stitch some life back together with the hope of the gospel. Threads at the bottom of a deep dark well.

And, well, crumbling isn’t really an option here and so now, eyes tight shut, I’m sort of at a loss with my head up against the drywall, praying for an option that doesn’t involve running away, or the fetal position, or lots and lots of wine.

And it so happens when you hide the Truth in your heart, Truth will light up in the dark spaces. And the gossamer threads of the gospel at the bottom of the well form a ladder that I am climbing, rung by rung. 

“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” {Matthew 11:28-30.}

And friends – you that love me so dear – I don’t know exactly how I eased the weight down, or when I did. But wouldn’t you know, while these words are spinning in the wheels of my foggy, sleep-deprived brain, I’m up and moving. Boiling noodles for dinner, gathering the toys, and pausing for a hug from a sleepy Superman.

I’m toiling under a yoke that seems a little lighter.

I am seeking rest for my soul from a Saviour who bears me up. 

So you, you whose burdens may not be the same shape as mine, you, having one of those days. GO. Go to Him. Go to the gospel.

~M.

Linking up with #imperfectprose and #TellHisStory.

More about Molly Huggins

I am an unrepentant extrovert with an ongoing, passionate affair with coffee, ellipses, and the written word. I write because it’s how I’m made to worship. I am a story teller, because redemption has a story to tell. And always, I want to be a story collector. So have a virtual seat at my beat-up kitchen table. Read my story. Tell me yours. Stay awhile. And P.S. ... for more about me, click on my mug in the sidebar;)

19 Comments
    1. Love this so much. Needed this more than I can express… Thank you! Thank you for pointing me to the One who is my peace and who gives me rest! Lifting you up as you walk this valley… Xo

    1. Good choice–to seek the light of Truth! I cannot imagine this agony you feel in these moments and so I appreciate your words here that help me understand…

      beautiful, authentic words.

      1. Thank you Theresa. LIGHT is my word for the year, and it is coming up in ways I did not expect …

    1. Wonderful sentiment, Molly. As always. I will keep you and your family in prayer. Especially the Husband for safety. <3

    1. I’m your neighbor at Jennifer Lee’s. I’m so grateful to you for the sacrifice you are making so that your husband can serve our country. I pray that you will feel God’s great arms holding you together in a very real way. I also pray for extra angels around your husband and that he comes home safe and sound.

    1. Love and hugs to you, Molly. This is beautiful. Our men do hard jobs, and it scares me so – even AFTPs with our crazy winds scare me, and I have to try not to think about it. Praying for you and your littles, for your husband as he flies. My heart aches for you, it really does. If you need anything, you know where to find me! (And because I can’t help it – woohoo Dustoff!)

      1. 🙂 Dustoff! Seriously, thank you for the prayers. I know you know this life …

    1. You sure did nail it here: “stitch some life back together with the hope of the gospel”, “praying for an option that doesn’t involve running away, or the fetal position, or lots and lots of wine”, “I’m up and moving. Boiling noodles for dinner, gathering the toys, and pausing for a hug from a sleepy Superman.” All this. Love your courage to live this and share it. Cheering you on.

I love to hear from you!