Just Enough

"He uncovers mysteries hidden in darkness; he brings light to the deepest gloom.” Job 12:22

In a season of being drained and depleted, being void and vacant, with a new tiny life to lead and a new anticipation of separation, Hubs cancelled Saturday night plans, picked up dinner, and scrubbed the tub. Epsom salts, candles, cheap champagne, Lumineers Pandora, and me. He kept the bitty babe and the game on TV out of earshot so I could stop and soak. 

Not everyone gets to do this. Enjoy a warm bath or a beautiful noise. Love and be loved.

The salt in my tears met the fresh pool on my chest, and I was grateful. It was real rest. The first in four months.

The Lord is in every flicker of light, any lyric or silence, the tiniest wave of water, every shadow and sip, if I'm only still. He's in every soothing, stretching muscle, every joint and tendon. Deep to the bone. Calming my thoughts. Echoing straight to the heart of me. He's the tiniest light in the dark, a glow from the floor of the rented guest bath.

It was just enough rest to recognize the smile lines on my sweet man's eyes again. To think my baby's cry was cute again. I came downstairs, having a little to give for the first time in a long time. Those moments of not being needed, of not being taken from, was just enough. I think God pursues us in these moments so He can remind us He's there in those other ones too. He is gentle and good. I took a bath and I drowned in His grace and I was a little bit new. New enough to love again.

How reassuring that a bath can wash me clean from the day and wash me clean from such emptiness and exhaustion. Even for a moment. It wasn't a cure, but it let me start again. Things didn't change when I snuck away, but I did. Just enough.