Before I left Pennsylvania, I toyed with the idea of leaving Detroit behind until I was settled. I feared too many moves for her and the tension I anticipated for me with starting a new job and finding a new house. But, my friend Lillian, who was also Detroit’s sitter, suggested that Detroit would make the transition well enough, as long as she was with me. Lillian is a dog person, and so I trusted her judgment; I brought Detroit along.
Every morning, I spend some time in prayer. Detroit joins me on the rocking chair, stretching out along my lap. Eventually, she falls asleep. Her fifteen pounds feels heavier as every muscle in her body relaxes and she melts into me. She is at home with me, resting peacefully.
She reminds me of Lent last year, when my spiritual director had a basket full of slips of paper. Each slip posed a question. Mine was, “Will you rest your weariness on me?” I have often thought of that question—through the time of Jim’s last days and the days and weeks after his death. Then through my move from Pennsylvania to Michigan. Weariness has been my friend more often than not over the past two years. But, would I rest in God? Could I rest in God?
As I watch Detroit so at peace with me, so at home with me, I know this is the kind of leaning into God that I am invited to. To trust God so deeply that I can totally relax and be home with God and at peace. The invitation still stands and God keeps asking me, “Will you rest your weariness on me?” I am working on it.