Yesterday felt like a bit of a failure. 

I didn’t finish the load of dishes, I didn’t tidy, I didn’t even take a shower.

As I looked back on the day while I stuck my feet under my covers at night, I realized, though, that my sweet body had hosted three naps that day.

Naps are a holy event, especially when shared — allowing yourself to be so relaxed, so vulnerable, around someone else — you’re showing your trust in your very body.

In the morning at the coffeeshop, I’d met a new friend for tea, and my one-year-old fell asleep nursing about 10am. He so rarely naps on me these days, he’s always busy busy, it was an intimate treat (and a blessed break!) for him to nap on my chest again.

In the afternoon, having not slept well the last few days (see: teething baby and houseguests), I had the chance to nap myself while Baby slept again. Couch naps are a certain kind of delicious, not as disorienting, I’ve found, as a bed-nap, and uniquely fortifying.

In the evening, out to drinks with mom-friends, a roll-y 4-month-old boy joined us, and in giving his Momma a few minutes’ break, he fell asleep in my arm, at my side.

What a gift to be the site of these trusting moments of renewal; may we notice and be grateful for the everyday holiness we’re blessed to encounter.