It’s not an issue of trying to keep up with Christmas. Preparing for Christmas traditions was the easy part.
But the schedule’s getting all booked and bossy, and it’s always these times when I start to unravel.
In the middle of the night, the house is nothing but a whisper. Three noisy boys and a spunky girl lie tucked in tight, under cozy comforters. I tip-toe into their bedrooms and observe the way they breathe.
I think about how I’ve forced myself to breathe deeply a handful of times today. Because my daytime breath keeps coming short and shallow.
I’ve been anticipating a great amount of activity to come–and I guess I’ve been living in fear of it. Because what I really need is breathing room.
Is it even possible to find breathing room, while 8 people live under this roof?
I stumble through prayers, asking God to fix whatever’s off inside me. I’m not sure how to get out of the way. Since I’m missing out on sleep anyway, I look for a psalm to pray, and this is where I land:
Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken. (Psalm 62)
Why, yes please. This I want–to find rest in God, unmoved by life’s concerns. I open another Bible version, and end up back at Psalm 62 in The Message. It’s a paraphrase, and the words on the page are meant for me.
God, the one and only—I’ll wait as long as he says. Everything I need comes from him, so why not?
He’s solid rock under my feet, breathing room for my soul.
Did you see that? Instead of my salvation, this time, God is breathing room for my soul.
I read it again and exhale. This is exactly what I’m looking for. This is beauty, found in the middle of the chaos, this room to breathe. In, out. Deep, slow.
I guess I’m feeling a little sleepy after all…