rest

to rest the tired feet the tired mind the tired

soul.

oh to rest father,  i hear you.  the feel of

the bed beneath me beckons a call to rest not only my body, but my everything.  

when i say

"push melissa, just keep GOING" 

you say 

"rest melissa, just rest in me, i am enough".  

when i say 

"of course i'll be there, i don't have any other plans" 

you say 

"stop melissa, and sit at my feet".

the moment i give in to the silence inside of me i fear it, i fear the still quiet of your soul, father.  i say i want you so badly, but when it comes down to hanging out in the evening with your voice or going to hang out with my friends, i do not choose you.  not as i should.  not without severe hesitation and claiming the "valid excuse" of my need for sleep instead.  no, no i do not say "i just need to sit with god tonight" because that would be too honest, too blunt, wouldn't it?  no.  telling the truth is fine when it isn't about your need for him, all the time.  how i am never going to be enough. 

never.

without him.

i am empty and even void of the desire to give anything without his love filling every crevice in my bones.  to shoot out my fingers and ears and the tips of my hair and the very thoughts i think.  

i long to/he longs for me to 

soak in the soul of my creator, my love, my friend, my god.  the just one who showers me with grace i don't know how to give and lavishes attention on a starved heart, grasping for grass in the desert.   like a small child who can't make good decisions for herself i will choose to let him make mine.  he knows better.  he loves the world better.  he sees clearer.  i see with filters of busyness.  of too many activities, meant to fill my life with life but ends up taking it.  

because i have said yes one too many times.

and

so i will sit.i will soak.

i will say yes to you lord god, my one.