After years of caring for my disabled brother, the life I knew ended. Loss of a loved one is always difficult, but I found the death of caregiving harder than expected.
The routine I followed for fourteen years was gone. The support group who rotated in and out of my home stopped. My brother’s empty room pulled at my heart strings. The loneliness covered my soul, and inner tears filled the void.
A voice within beckoned me to rest in God’s arms. So, my husband loaded the motor home with the dog and cat, and I filled the shelves with unread books. My unfinished manuscript was packed and ready to go. Our five-month rest as campground hosts in the Colorado Mountains began.
Months passed and my books remained closed. Lack of motivation consumed me, and guilt covered me when my self-talk told me I should be doing something—not resting. However, God’s voice overrode my guilt with His reminder of Mary sitting at His feet resting. Sitting at His feet didn’t come easy. I had to abandon control of my rest time. The work God had called me into didn’t include my agenda of reading and writing. It was a call to sit in the stillness of His Presence.
If God calls you into a season of rest, let go of the busyness. Like Mary, sit at His feet and quietly listen—bathing yourself in His love.
(Photo couresty of morguefile and marykbaird.)
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