Resting Like the Cat

When my daughter moved back home last summer, she brought with her a beautiful white housecat named Prince who turns two years old next month and behaves pretty much like a teenager (although I’ve been reminded that this means he’s behaving pretty much like a cat). Because I’m almost always the first one up in the morning, he generally greets me at my door expecting some attention. That used to be playtime, but lately, it’s become cozy time.

Case in point: after I emerged from my bedroom this morning and planted myself on the living room loveseat, he nonchalantly hopped up there by me, tenderly stepping over my body a couple times to get his head in the vicinity of my hand where chin scratches are easy for me. Then he settled down on the seat cushion snuggled up to my leg, purring and enjoying the weight of my hand on his body.

As I felt that contented rumble under my hand and looked at his peaceful, closed eyes, I found myself praying. Jesus, this is what I want. I want to curl up in your lap and just lie there. No worries . . . no responsibilities . . . feeling the weight of your hand on me securely.

Rest has become a theme in my life in the last few years. I’m reading a book right now: The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer. Oh, people – READ THIS BOOK.

But it is simply reiterating the messages I’ve been getting from Jesus for quite a while now. Rest. Rest. Stop working. Delight in things. Delight in me.

I’m still not sleeping well. (Wondering if I need to get back on a CPAP. Groan . . .) However, it occurred to me recently that I really need to acknowledge the blessings that have come from this chronic problem. Because of my sleep deprivation, I have been forced to prioritize habits that facilitate real rest. I have a strict nighttime routine that I must adhere to religiously. I shut the world off early. I don’t let myself believe the lie that one more episode or one more chapter or one more game won’t hurt; I know it will.

I also Sabbath in a much more deliberate way. As much as possible, I try to not to do anything on a Sunday that is something I have to do rather than something I want to do. I spend the day delighting in things, especially in God whom I see in the things. I read books . . . I take naps . . . I do puzzles . . . I watch TV sometimes, but I’m trying to do less of that. I rest.

That doesn’t necessarily mean I never do “work”, meaning tasks for my teaching job. Occasionally (as happened one morning last week), I get a great idea for something for a class and can't wait to flesh it all out. That work in that moment is a JOY . . . and I feel God sitting right by me as I do it because this is the stuff he made me for . . . so I feel free to do that on a Sunday.

But I don’t answer emails. I don’t grade papers. I don’t check my team’s lesson plans (unless they were late getting them in and I have to – don’t do that to me, friends).

I rest. I revel in my Father’s care. I’m giving teenage cat vibes all day.

Corrie Ten Boom once said, if the devil can’t make you sin, he’ll make you busy. Preach, sister. Eliminate the busy, friends. Ruthlessly seek the rest.