Tuesday, August 2, 2011


His chubby fist clutches tightly at the neckline of my dress, and he sighs a contented little sigh--finally asleep.

As I gently place him on fresh sheets for a nap his hand continues to entwine in my clothes and I carefully pry it loose--and I think.

Do I clutch at "things" that make me feel secure?

Do I place more value on "stuff" than souls?

Do possesions entwine themselves so deeply in my heart that I can't hear God whispering "trust me?"

Do I lack a place of rest in my life because I refuse to "let go?"

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Matthew 11:28