This week has been a doozy. Between Lydia’s ear infection, Sarah’s newfound resistance to sleep and my rotating Lenten fast (which just now has me fasting from sweets, and folks, I don’t do well without chocolate), crankiness, fussiness and noise have reigned at our house.

Meltdowns. Tears. Drama. You get the picture.

But yesterday, when I hadn’t had a still moment in days and was starting to suspect that my teeth would never unclench again, I got home from work before my folks brought the girls back. Despite the temptation to bustle inside and pick up, wash dishes, fold laundry, etc., I sat down on the front step and closed my eyes. I listened. I felt the breeze on my face, and the air smelt of spring.

There is the rest that I want, and the rest that I need, and the Lord never lets me go long without the last one.

When I opened my eyes, I saw blossoms: cherry blossoms. While I was busy tending to a sick daughter, an awake daughter, and missing my chocolate (but not, I hope, the point of the fast), the cherry trees across the street had turned pink. And if I tilted my head and sniffed just so, I could smell them.

So, the world does go on without me. Praise the Lord for that.


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