I just thought through all the things I must do tomorrow, and I am exhausted. And that doesn’t include the things ought to do. For example, several good local consignment sales are held tomorrow, and even though Kate needs spring play clothes, there is no way I can make it to any of them.
I am weary of the pace of life, I want to stop. Listen, read, drink a cup of tea, sing more with my girls. But there is no end in sight. I have small glimpses of rest, moments of peace and enjoyment, but they are fleeting.
My busyness is the busyness of this age, but it makes me wonder about my old world ancestors. Did they have time to rest or did they feel oppressed by the tasks of everyday? Did they find contentment amidst their busyness? Might I find rest in mine?