I am weary. He is not.

At well past Eight o'clock, the girls have been tucked into bed.  Bill is out of town and the house is quiet save the soft ticking of the kitchen clock.  

I go round the house turning off lights, picking up throw-pillows, readying the coffee pot for the next day, and wiping crumbs from the counter.

 

Oh shoot, I forgot to switch the laundry from the washer into the dryer.

 

I quickly side-step the shoes on the floor and pass through the dim kitchen to the laundry room.  I cringe at the loud thump of the metal dryer door as I open it.  My back is to the door as I noiselessly lean over the washer reaching for the wet clothes.

“Mommy?”

Although her voice is quiet I jump and let out a startled gasp.

I turn to face my 6 year old in her long pink nightgown.

Hand to my heart indicating my surprise, I try to calm down as I answer.

“Yes Baby,” My response rides out of my mouth on a weary sigh.

She asks for a sip of water and I comply. 

Several minutes later, she is snuggly tucked in for the third time tonight and my fatigued body gingerly descends the stairs 

one 

at 

a 

time.

Back in my quiet kitchen, I recall many times when I was the pink night gowned girl tip-toeing through the house.  More than once I surprised my own tired Mama with some lame last request—something like: “will you tickle my back so that I can sleep?”  

I can even remember her forced smile, her audible sighs, her tired compliance with whatever I was asking.  I remember it well, and I mimic it now.

I also understand it now.

I mean, after a day of errands, chores, fixing dinner, cleaning up from dinner, playing games, reading together, supervising baths and potty and teeth brushing—after hours of meeting various needs, a mother is ready for some quiet time.  

In those moments after Eight o’clock, she is hurrying to pick up the last few things, get everything just right so that finally, she can collapse onto a chair/couch/bed, take a deep breath, and dwell on an uninterrupted thought—any thought.

As stillness settles over the house, she calms her pace and relishes the knowledge that her appointment with relaxation is drawing near.

So, when that child—ninja quiet—appears behind her, she not only jumps out of her skin, she moans inwardly at the delay to her plans to do…well, nothing.

Even the best mothers grow tired and weary. 

But, thankfully, THANKFULLY, 

God does not.

He is not startled when we call out His name.

He is not surprised that we’ve come needing Him.  (Again.)

He does not sigh at our request for water or comfort so that we can rest.

He complies joyfully with strength and wisdom that no one can fathom.

Do you not know?  Have you not heard? 

The everlasting God, creator of the Universe loves you.  He does not grow tired or weary and He loves it when you call His name.

I’ll tell you one thing, this tired Mama is so grateful to know the One who can renew my strength because tomorrow is another day. 

But, tonight, I’m tiptoeing into his presence and asking Him to lull me to sleep.