It is counter intuitive. One would think that surrender is less work than fierce determination. But then we humans never did subscribe to logic. 

 

The grit with which I try to arm wrestle people around me into conforming to my wishes is exhausting. In a sweat-pouring-from-my-forehead kind of way. But the strength necessary for withholding that compulsion to control others takes a different set of muscles. Self restraint, as when my lips stay shut, and my eyebrows don't scrunch up, is taxing. 

 

Until it isn't. 

 

The to do list that appears in the first six days of creation is hefty. Luminescence, billowing clouds, expansive oceans, a glitter of stars. How would one even begin to will such miracles into existence? Fortunately it was not my job. Still isn't. 

 

Yet God found the means, and in His own words, the results were good. All I need to do is take a walk on a summer morning to see as much. 

 

Then came the seventh day. 

 

 

Perhaps the rest arrives when I realize what is my job and what isn't.