Encouraged, and kind of rested

I wrote a dear friend this morning, laughing, because my first thought on waking was to celebrate something as a miracle and massive blessing from Jesus, but it was something that most people experience as "normal".

I woke at about twenty past six this morning, and my first thought, upon glancing at the thought and discovering the time was a rather stunned, "I slept!" After several nights in a row with incredibly minimal sleep, that thought alone was stunning. As I lay there, I realized that not only had I managed to catch some sleep, but I'd only woken once in the eight hours since I'd gone to bed, and, while I'd dreamt, they were "normal" sorts of dreams, rather than the intensely vivid sorts of spiritual experiences I've been having for most of the rest of the week.

A sleep with any one of those things - eight hours, waking only once, or "normal" dreams, is something I would celebrate. A sleep with all three of those things at once definitely falls into the miraculous blessing category for me.

It's interesting to me how the littlest things can be a reminder, and an assurance. How, when I was willing to continue walking out some of the more intense nights and seasons and themes of the last week, but was also feeling exhausted and a bit beaten down, Jesus let me sleep. To me it was a reminder that he loves me deeply, that he sees me and cares for my needs. That I am important to him, even amidst the larger themes and moments.

I'm kind of rested. My muscles are still knotted and causing me pain, and I could use at least another eight hours of peaceful sleep, but I am feeling so encouraged this morning by the simple miracle of having rested deeply for a time. I'm sitting here, sipping tea, considering the joy in me that comes from simply having been seen by Jesus and offered just a bit of rest.

I fell asleep last night on the thought (prayer) that it would be so nice if Jesus would simply hold me and let me rest for a few hours. And perhaps, that is just what he did, letting me rest my head in his lap like a daddy, and turning away all comers that would have sought to disturb my rest. It's kind of a lovely thought to ponder as I head into the day.