Set the handles down. All day you pushed that load uphill: the phone calls, the damp laundry still in its basket, the list that grew two new lines at noon. Tip it out by the garden gate and leave it there. It will keep until morning, and so will you.
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." — Matthew 11:28 (KJV)
Tonight's prayer Lord Jesus, you said come, so I am coming. My arms ache from the pushing. My shoulders still remember the handles. I am not bringing you a tidy day, only the whole heavy load, dirt and all. Sort it for me. Show me what was mine to carry and what never was. Slow my breathing to the pace of your voice. Give me the rest you promised, the kind that reaches the bones and stays until sunrise. You never once said, finish first. Thank you for the open gate, the quiet yard, and this soft bed waiting. Amen.
Blessing for your rest Goodnight, dear one. May the Lord who gives rest settle over you and every sleeping soul under your roof, and may morning find you lighter than he left you.