Rest. That’s what Betsy and Jane said when praying over me after church service today. I secretly wanted an answer to my life. What God has in store for me. What he’s not saying. What my plan is. What my path is. I want direction. To know what’s next. God isn’t telling me but perhaps these women will. Rest. And healing. That’s what they say. Give God time to heal me. And Rest. What a beautiful prescription.

The flesh is fighting it. “But I do rest!”, I think to myself though holding back the audible grumbling. Or do I? “Everything I do, I do for the Lord! What is it that you mean by rest???” I attempt to defend this and explain that and ask for clarification here and “in what way” there before I shut it down. My brain, that is. And my mouth. I simply allow the words “rest and healing, child,” to sink in as I lose myself in Jane’s comforting, loving eyes that feel so familiar. I glance at Betsy. She is wise and able. I glance at her with a pleading look that begs for more explanation before taking a breath of acceptance. I drink in the silence, close my eyes and give a nod as I thank the Good Lord. For the work he’s doing in me. For these women. Rest and healing. God is so good.