Awake

I lay my weary body down underneath the sheets. My muscles whine, but not with the accomplished sore feeling of exercise or hard manual labor. It's the ache of exhaustion and poor care; perhaps this is what it feels like to be old.

I lay in bed for a few moments calculating the exact number of minutes I would have it I fell asleep right now. Six hours becomes five. My body tells me how hard I have worked today but my mind chatter mocks me, reminding me of how much I have left to complete tomorrow.

I crawl out of my warm covers in a search for something to settle my head. Perhaps if I write down my TDL for tomorrow? No, that only shows me how much there is to do. Maybe I could read? No, my mind wanders away from the page too quickly. I could work on a sewing project? No, my eyes are too tired and my brain too foggy to operate machinery.

And then I remember the God I worship. The one who kept my aching muscles going all day. The one who cleared my overwhelmed thoughts as I panicked over deadlines. The one who stood beside me as I completed task after task. The one who is willing to do it all over again with me tomorrow. The one who values rest yet never tires.

"Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones. When you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake." -- Victor Hugo