I'm falling behind in my 31 Days of Sabbath series. Ironically, it's because I'm resting.
And while I doubt you've noticed, I've noticed. I'm embarrassed and squirmy and even a tad guilt-ridden about it.
Which is ridiculous, no? To feel guilty about resting during a series on the Sabbath.
But this is where we are, as a culture. This is where I am, as a person. Even after 10 months of reading and studying and praying about Sabbath, I have an uneasy peace with doing something as simple as falling asleep in Teyla's bed while I wait for Miss Bundle of Energy to calm down. (I did it twice more since Saturday, for the record.)
I suppose the good news, if I'm going to be completely honest, is that I'm learning to stop anyway. After all, I did allow myself the luxury of taking unintended Sabbaths after a Week O' Crazy instead of forcing myself to stay awake and post. I read a few extra books to Kieran when he asked, and I listened to Natalie's story about school the other morning instead of turing on my computer, and I stopped typing just a few minutes ago to "taste" the Play-Dough shake Connor brought to me. (It was delicious, by the way. Sour blue raspberry with lemon swirl on top.)
And I'm learning to shrug off the guilt, because God says rest is good. And I'm believing God, not my culture.