Last Saturday morning dawned like most other Saturday mornings. Loose plans, weary bodies, much that needed our attention.

"What do you want today to hold?" I asked my husband. He didn't seem very interested in the question. Distracted, caught up in his own thoughts.

"I just have so much to do," he said.

"Like what?" I asked. "Tell me all the things." I knew that sometimes reciting our to-do list out loud can make it feel more manageable.

"I don't know. Just a lot." I knew exactly what he meant; weight on the shoulders, a nebulous feeling of being behind, dropping balls, the looming LIST.

"The list is never really done, you know?" I said hesitantly, so as to not sound like a know-it-all,

He finally looked up at me. Smiled knowingly. "Yea, I know."

I said, "Funny, isn't it? Maybe God knew that honoring the Sabbath--one day of rest out of seven--was going to be so hard for us that he had to threaten to kill us if we don't stop?!"

Chuck grinned. "Yea, and if we don't rest, we end up killing ourselves, don't we?"

It was my turn to smile knowingly.

"Yup. We do. In ways big and small"

So we built a fire and rested all weekend.

The End.

Photo by Maurice Sahl on Unsplash