Everything slowed, my heart dropped, and I was rebuked. I was no different than Adam and Eve who sewed clothes out of leaves, or the children of Israel who built the golden calf. I was looking for my own redemption. Trying to figure things out on my own. Trying to fix it in my own strength.
But just as soon as my disappointment started to rise, He spoke again. This time, with familiar comforting grace.So then and there, I rested. I truly rested. Pajama Day was redeemed. Not by me, by Him. By the One who interrupts my feable attempts to rescue myself with His voice, with His truth, with His rest.