A verse keeps running through my mind this evening: "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30).
It's 11:30 already. I need rest. I have more papers to grade, more that are magically appearing in my inbox tonight as I type and another class' worth of essays that will appear tomorrow.
Rest. Sleep. Dreams. Right now, those words are more intoxicating than any drug.
This isn't a want, a frivolous desire, a random thought. At this point, rest is an all-consuming passion, a need. I can taste it much like a dehydrated man can taste water.
Since June 1, I've barely kept my head above the waves of student papers threatening to drown me. In fact, I haven't even been able to tread water. Instead, I've just clung to a piece of driftwood and hung on for dear life, waiting for the tide to bring me in.
Then, I got sick a couple Sundays ago and still can't kick this thing. My batteries died long ago, I'm miserable, grumpy. My teaching load this summer has been too burdensome.
Before the kids, I could have slept through this illness. No matter how late I had to stay up and work, I could always sleep in or catch a nap. If I still want a house and living children when I awaken, that's no longer an option.
Pray for me. I just need to survive until July 24, and then I can slow down my work to a rush-hour-traffic crawl for a month before the fall semester begins.