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Rest

“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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