I have long held that we relaxed, um, differently. His style just happened to look like sitting around doing nothing productive and mine happened to look an awful lot like Getting Stuff Done.  Maybe he is right, that i need to learn how to put my feet up, read a magazine, rest even when the bread needs to be made for lunches the next day and Mt. Laundry needs to be folded. I could have written this post, and then some. There is a holy calling to Rest.  He built it into creation, commands us to Sabbath. Cease work. Cease striving. I eventually sat down next to my girl and we read about Cleopatra and the Food Ark, I cast on a few stitches. We ate leftovers for dinner. And now, in case I haven’t quite learned my lesson, the babe and I are sick. Nothing like a cold to make you slow down, forego the schedule, lie in bed all day and re-interpret what it means to Get Stuff Done.



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