“Will you take her with you to the store? It will be a Father and
daughter adventure,” I say. And quiet descends across my little house. The whir of the
fan and the click of keys and my mumbled whispers of what I’m typing are the
only sounds.
It is a different type of rest when you are not listening for
little sounds or loud sounds beckoning a baby’s needs. It is an unencumbered rest,
a small delight. Yet, what is strange is though the quiet is lovely for a brief
bit of time (especially when limbs are sore from bike-riding), is that my arms
get lonely. Even though they are tired, they want to hold my little girl.
In the meantime, I rest and gather strength.
“Come to me all you who are heavy laden and I will give your rest. For
my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
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