Overwhelmed, a little stressed, the plans laid out beautifully in my head are not going at all as planned. It is a season, I know that this too shall pass. I have shared with close friends that if this is a test, I am failing. I am choosing to refuse to be comforted; choosing rather to pitch my little fit of crying and dwell in my disappointments.
I have been refusing (much like that of an infant) to rest in my Savior.
I can remember holding my children late at night when they were babies. There were times when I would whisper, "just rest, I have you...cradled in my arms, rest." For whatever reason they had been pushed beyond that point of being comforted. Crying and wailing seemed to be what was preferred, until out of mere exhaustion...they rested.
How very much I am like an infant!
I know that my Savior holds me,
yet I prefer the crying and wailing, until exhaustion takes over, then I rest.
Realizing that my Comforter,
my Savior, had been holding me all along, whispering,
"just rest, I have you...cradled in my arms, rest."