It's the involuntary consequence of lying down next to a clean, cuddly three-year-old in a darkened room after a triple reading of Apple Trouble at the tail end of an exhausting day.
I thought I was snuggling. Turns out, I was celebrating an unintended Sabbath. Instead of fighting the tiredness, I gave in to it and let it to overtake me like a oceanic tide. I sighed and wrapped my arms around Teyla's frame and I slept. (For at least a few minutes.)
Almost every Sabbath book I've read this past year has a story like this one from Wayne Muller.
When I gather with friends and colleagues for Sabbath retreats, those courageous few who manage to carve out a day or a weekend for quiet reflection often arrive thoroughly exhausted. By the afternoon, some inevitably fall asleep right in the middle of our meditations. When they awaken they quickly apologize for their spiritual transgressions; they feel ashamed and embarrassed. I reassure them it is good when they sleep. It is a sign of trust, that they feel safe enough finally to let go and surrender to their weariness.Allowing myself to admit I'm tired, feeling the ache in my bones and my feet, thanking God for a warm bed and even the tasks that created my weariness - these are echoes of Sabbath rest.
When was the last time you consciously chose to let yourself sleep, even when you had other things to do?