Little Cabin in the Peaceful Woods

Sunday was reserved for rest. Our friends have a cabin in the woods, about 20 minutes outside Fayetteville. We lovingly call it The Farm, and it’s hosted many special occasions with close friends.

Sunday we wanted that place to give us rest. We woke up and, while getting ready for church, explained to Eliot that we were going to the farm– wrong move, right there.

“Uncle Donald, Uncle Donald house!!”…. after various attempts to explain that it wasn’t that kind of farm, I gave up, and he barely made it through church thinking about the man with the hat and the chickens and cows we were going to visit. The winding drive up to the house did nothing to deter him. He looked for Uncle Donald all afternoon.

We ate pizza and took a nap– Eliot and me on a bed and Travis and Isaiah wrapped in a blanket on a loveseat. The sun shone on Eliot and me as we cuddled up and closed our eyes. We woke up to the 65 degree air outside, and took a seat on the big front porch in a yellow swing.

Eliot and Travis ran down to the tiny lake that resides next to the cabin. They threw rocks off the small dock and played with a neighboring dog that Eliot decided to name “Bubble.” I sat with Isaiah and read my Jan Karon book and drank an iced Coca-Cola.

I’m not sure what exactly that afternoon did for us, but it was something that we needed. Rest cannot always be explained, but when we receive it, it’s something quite holy.

This morning I woke up in a frenzied state, emotionally, mentally and a bit physically. While nursing Isaiah to sleep for his first morning nap, I forced myself to sit and write out Hebrews 4 in my journal–I struggled through every sentence. I see right in front of me that rest is what I need, but for some reason, I hesitate.

The Israelites hesitated, too. And God said, “They’ll never get where they’re going, they’ll never be able to sit down and rest….”

But then, Jesus.

Now that we know what we have– Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God– let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all– all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.

I am weary and trying to find my way with every new sunrise. Rest.

I am trying to be patient and all-loving with my wonderful, crazy toddler boy who just wants to be in my face and in my presence all the time. Rest.

I wait so impatiently for the future, trying to remind myself that it’s truly secure. Rest.

I don’t even know what to make for dinner tonight. Rest.

I want to breathe and live in the gifts He calls me to. Rest.

In all things, rest, rest, rest.

The promise of “arrival” and “rest” is still there for God’s people. God himself is at rest. And at the end of the journey we’ll surely rest with God. So let’s keep at it and eventually arrive at the place of rest, not drop out through some sort of disobedience.

The journey to rest. An afternoon at a little cabin in the woods reminded me, and the push to get through this morning reminds me. Rest  when I can’t understand it, rest when I most certainly need it.