Finally Saturday

(A photographer I am not, but here's a snapshot of my Saturday morning)

Its Saturday morning and I am absolutely delighted to be exactly where I am. I am certain my body and my soul are parched for rest and stillness after this weirdo week. Getting back from time away means flurry, a lot of flurry, in many different areas of even my ordinary life, and by yesterday I was completely spent, as if I had barely enough strength to crawl and pull my middle-aged, perimenopausal self across the Friday finish line.

Spent.

Done.

Finished.

So here I am. Saturday. Jammies on, tea beside me, 9ish am but who really cares what time it is? It doesn't matter on Saturdays. I am shrouded in silence and tucked into stillness.

Last night I stumbled home, made supper, cleaned up, and finally, finally, collapsed on the couch. I sat. I stared at the TV. The energy for anything else was simply not there. Gone. Used up. Flushed down the drain.

My inner coach started in around 9pm. "Bedtime," she chirped. "Tomorrow is a brand new day."

But then the other voice inside, the one I don't yet have a name for, the one who perhaps occasionally resembles a taciturn teen simple said, "Nope."

She was having none of it. No movement. Plans or purpose for tomorrow? Umm. That would be a resounding nah. She was going to veg for however long she needed. She had absolutely no desire for anything wrapped up with the word 'should.' I didn't care about today, today's workout, my step count, best sleep habits, what was best for my ever present and consistently growing belly, my skincare routine, for what Del may need, for something I should do for the kids or for any of it.

She didn't care.

I didn't care.

She was not getting up off the couch and that was that. Taciturn? Maybe. But seriously. Who cares?

Sit, stare, disappear. There I was. The week and all the flurry it stirred up had done it's work and I was done.

D.O.N.E.

Right now? Today? Saturday morning? I'm not done yet. I'm still staring and sitting and desiring to disappear.

And yet, here she is, my perky inner coach with her insatiable and well-meaning need to chirp, the one who got the eye roll from my taciturn teen self last night, asking, "What is this Lord?"

Do I need to probe this? To dig deeper into my state of mind? I'm not sure I can. The thought of thinking and probing and digging feels too heavy, too busy, but breathing? Breathing feels so good, so enough for right now. Sitting still in this quiet place, alone, breathing, feels like holy medicine.

I trust I know myself pretty well and I know this world takes its toll. All the noise, all the people and all their drama, all the yuck of the news, all the ideas, thoughts and 'shoulds' constantly passing through my mind are an intense workout for my brain and my soul and maybe it is this part of me, bless her, who does her best to convince me of my immunity to all of it because she knows sitting and staring can't be my forever state of being.

"You're loved, you're healthy, you're well," she says. "You're just fine. You handle life better than most. You can do this. Keep going. People need you for all the things, so just keep going."

And yet I sat on the couch until 1:30am this morning in a zombie-like state, unwilling to go to bed, to move, to think, because of the other part of me who needed more. She simply needed more.

More time alone.

More escape.

More freedom to defy the clock and the list and all the proper things to do. All the things I should always and forever do.

She, the one deep inside, the one I'm not sure what to call, needed more time.

Lord.

You know her name don't you? Will you reveal it to me someday? If it's okay, today I think I'll rest in knowing she is safe with you. She's deep down, tucked away and safe. She is precious, a bit difficult at times, but vulnerable and so very sweet. She loves you and she is weary. I'm okay with not fully understanding the weariness and the reasons for it, so today I will let her rest and I promise to try to not prod or push her into any unnecessary action.

She's precious and she is you child, your girl.

Thank you for loving and caring for her. For seeing her and for knowing her fully. She is precious in your sight isn't she? The words to express gratitude for being seen, and loved, and cared for in that most deepest of places where I allow myself to be taciturn, tired, and in zombie mode, can't even begin to touch the depth of it can they?

Lord, today I'm trying to open my hands and let go of all of me so I can grab on and intertwine my fingers with yours. At least for today. Saturday.

I'm asking for your love and your grace to restore, to bring the rest, and the renewal to she who has no name, but is known completely and held so dearly in your hands.

Thank you.

My precious Lord and Saviour.

Thank you.