The world is in a silent panic. We enter week three of my three year old, two year old, and husband all at home. Strange days of not being able to find toilet paper and bread we can only hope will be behind us soon. It seems overblown, yet the prospect terrifying.
It’s Sunday, the house is quiet, I just finished a quiz for online gradschool. I opened up my computer, realizing it has been months since I have written a post.
Around the time of my last post, I had no idea I was pregnant. Today, I’m 35 weeks along with my third boy who will be due in just a few short weeks amidst a global pandemic and likely right at the point hospitals are overloaded with patients.
In the midst of this quiet, home bound season, I am trying to fight the tendencies of my personality to simply complain about the fact this is something I have LONGED FOR, quiet, time with my husband, time with my kids, no events, no obligations, the ability to work from home, and instead of embracing the good, stay glued to social media and let these moments pass by.
I always long for time…yet when I have it, I have no idea what to do with it. Vacations, holidays, all the same….I get so worked up about how excited I am to have time and when I do get it, I end up disconnected and don’t enjoy it. I guess I just don’t know how to slow down.
My prayer for my own heart this week and in the weeks ahead, no matter how long this lasts, is that I will embrace the quiet, embrace the time away from the usual. I don’t want to give into the fear of the unknown, the fear of the market, the fear of the price of oil, the fear of losing my job, the fear that this time will slip from between my fingers.
Rest. My prayer is for true, quiet rest.
Wandering Heart Bound 