On Saturday, the last day of the week and the traditional day for Sabbath, horses and buggies clipclopped by all day long, indicating that the Amish were marketing in town. It wasn't their Sabbath.
But for me, it was a Sabbath. I was limp with exhaustion, not physical exhaustion but a sense of having, after five intense weeks of packing, moving, unpacking, settling, dealing with one mini-crisis after another and then Nick's broken ankle, having been entirely wrung out. I couldn't not rest. Clutter was around me: the tray that held Nick's dinner needing to be put away, apple juice on the counter needing to be put in the refrigerator, Tylenol on the kitchen table, a bathroom that cried out for a cleaning ... and I could do none of it. Until later, when I did.
Do you have these moments?