Fly

Five minute friday: Fly

It's naptime, and I'm trying to fill myself up in a hurry before round two starts, when they wake up. No, make that round 2, 345, 222.  There is always a sense of urgency about this filling-up, and there should be, I think.  This mommy job is not easy.  It wears on me, drains me, exhausts me. It is urgent, essential, necessary to the health of my family and probably the fate of the world, that I take my resting time seriously.

So I grab a book, and a cup of coffee, and my l laptop, and I set my mind to soul-filling, resting, breathing in.

And a fly lands on my leg. Two flies. It's November, why the flies? Can I not sit for five minutes without being pestered?

I want to flail my arms and fight against all that pesters.

And the flies make me feel itchy, and I look up and see that my living room is messy, and I should probably be cleaning the house. The cat looks at me, shedding on my couch, probably knowing how much I hate that.

The universe seems to conspire to interrupt my rest.

But I shoo it away, try to block out the buzzing, and the shedding, and the books on the floor, and the orange peels in the kitchen, and the sticky dining room table.  It can wait, it can all wait.

And I read a Psalm, and God is my shield, against the foe, and even, for a moment, against the constant calls of the urgent little tasks.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee!