Potty Wars, Part 3: The Nap-Time Ambush! 🛏️🚨🤣
Note: Still I rise. Be encouraged…
Sunday, October 18, 2026 — 6:00 PM
Beloveds,
I need somebody to explain something to me.
Since WHEN did taking a nap become a contact sport?!
🤣🤣🤣
I was minding my business.
Well.
That was the plan.
After everything that had happened, a little rest sounded positively delightful.
A pillow.
A comfortable blanket.
A chance to settle down.
Perhaps a little peace and quiet.
You know.
The simple pleasures.
And somewhere in the distance, I believe I heard the unmistakable sound of a whistle.
Oh, no.
NO.
Absolutely not.
Surely not.
But there he was.
REF PAIN!
Back again!
Black-and-white stripes.
Referee cap.
Whistle.
And the enormous confidence of somebody who had won ONE round and was already planning his victory parade.
Excuse me, sir!
What are you doing here?
The game is OVER!
He blows the whistle.
TWEEEEET!
I reach for my imaginary rule book.
No.
No, no, no.
There is absolutely nothing in these rules authorizing surprise inspections during nap time!
And if there is, I would like to speak to whoever wrote them.
IMMEDIATELY!
🤣
Apparently Ref Pain has decided that he is not content with winning a round earlier in the day.
He now wishes to interfere with the scheduled rest period.
And I am offended on behalf of every pillow in America.
Can you imagine?
The blanket has done nothing wrong.
The pillow has been entirely cooperative.
The bed has one job.
ONE.
And here comes Ref Pain acting as if somebody has called him in for overtime.
Sir!
Go HOME!
🤣
But beloveds, underneath this ridiculous little adventure is something I have been thinking about.
Sometimes hard does not arrive when we have our shoes on and are ready for a fight.
Sometimes it comes when we have finally become still.
When the company has gone home.
When the distractions have stopped.
When we are tired.
When all we wanted was a little rest.
And that can be particularly discouraging.
Because sometimes, after spending so much of ourselves simply getting through a difficult day, the very last thing we want is another round.
We want quiet.
We want comfort.
We want to be home in our own peace.
And I have been learning that there is no shame in wanting those things.
Rest is not something we have to earn by impressing everybody with how much we can endure.
There are moments when rest is exactly what the day requires.
And sometimes the bravest thing we can do is refuse to make a performance out of our suffering.
We do not have to turn every painful moment into a victory speech.
We do not have to entertain everybody while we are hurting.
We do not have to explain every disappointment.
And we do not have to call ourselves failures because today’s plans had to change.
Beloveds, there is a time for laughter.
There is a time for tears.
There is a time to try again.
And there is a time to settle into the quiet assurance that we are loved even when we are doing absolutely nothing extraordinary.
God meets us there, too.
In the resting.
In the waiting.
In the moments when we have no magnificent accomplishments to report.
In the moments when all we can manage is another breath and a little hope for tomorrow.
His love is not measured by how productive we have been.
His care is not limited to the days when everything goes according to plan.
And when life keeps interrupting the peace we hoped to find, we can still lean into the One whose faithfulness does not depend upon a perfect day.
Now.
Back to this referee.
Because I have not forgotten him.
Ref Pain is standing beside my imaginary bed, looking over his shoulder at that ridiculous scoreboard.
He blows his whistle one more time.
I stare.
He stares.
The pillow waits.
And finally I announce:
THIS IS NOT AN OFFICIAL SPORTING EVENT.
No scoreboard.
No halftime show.
No trophy presentation.
And absolutely NO WHISTLES IN THE BEDROOM!
🤣
Beloveds, I cannot promise that every interruption will disappear.
I cannot promise that tomorrow will be easy.
But I can tell you that one interruption does not get to define the entire story.
Sometimes laughter helps.
Sometimes tears help.
Sometimes a friend helps.
Sometimes a little rest helps.
And sometimes we simply need to remember that we are still loved, even when the day has worn us out.
So I am ending this little adventure right here.
Not by pretending Ref Pain never showed up.
Not by insisting he never won a round.
But by refusing to hand him everything else that belongs to this life.
He can keep the whistle.
He can keep his trophy.
He can even keep that silly scoreboard.
I have a life to live.
A home to enjoy.
Love to give and receive.
And, apparently, a nap to renegotiate.
Beloveds, somebody bring me a blanket.
And PLEASE confiscate that whistle!
GAME CALLED ON ACCOUNT OF REST!
still here,
Cassandra
you matter to me. 🧡
