Friday, July 6, 2012

she was sleeping

she was sleeping
It's 2:30 in the morning, a mere few precious hours from when my babies will wake up and the grind will begin again. I'm exhausted and painfully sunburned, but I can't sleep. I'm haunted by an uneasiness, a persistent sense of guilt and inadequacy. For the last few days I've felt a longing to crawl into my Father's throne room, where I'm sure I can find peace....

I have a daydream about slinking into that quiet place for a bit of rest. I don't need any special treatment, I'd be satisfied to curl up in a soft corner somewhere--better yet, behind His throne where no one need see me but Him. I expect my accusers to come bustling in behind me, nasty fingers drawn, voices calling out my faults:

"She doesn't work hard enough!"

"She wastes so much time!"

"She's not taken good enough care of her children and they are snotty and coughing. (You hear them now?)"

"She stays up too late!"

"She says lots of foolish things!"

"She doesn't appreciate her husband enough!"

"She is undisciplined!"

"She doesn't keep up with the chores!"

"She doesn't contribute a penny to the family livelihood, though she's well-educated!"

"She has lots of ambitions, but little motivation!"

"She covets bigger homes and tighter bodies!"

"She thinks and says unkind things about people!"

And etc.

And I stand trembling behind the throne ready to say, "It's true, it's all true and I'm so ashamed," but I don't need to say it because He already knows everything. He doesn't need me to answer. The fingers pointing towards me can't get through Him, and they don't bother Him one bit.

I don't need to hear what He says to them. I don't need to see what he writes in the dust. I just want to hear Him say, "Woman, where are your accusers?" and I want to look up and find the courtyard empty.

Then I'd give anything to just crawl up in His lap like a little child, and without a care in the world, to fall asleep for awhile. To know if I drool He won't be repulsed, He'll just find it endearingly amusing.

Just three hours now until another D-day begins (diaper day, that is). It would be three hours well-spent if I could sleep like that....

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