Sabbath for a Toe

Rainy days give me headaches. Something about the barometic pressure dropping, the being stuck indoors with no fresh air, the dying drowning worms that congregate like spaghetti dinner on the porch.....
I love to run and walk, and bikeride, and the rain puts a literal damper on all those activities. So I sit instead in the sun room, and listen to the rain drops tapping out their morse code on the tin roof. I watch the newly laid grass seed happily streaming across the yard in rivulets to the neighbor's already lush lawn.
By the end of the day, I am irritable. All I have done is sit, my over-abundance of energy tamped into an explosive bundle, sure to self-detonate. The rain is giggling with its incessant taunt. Then I realize that my toe is no longer throbbing. After a week of severe pain in the injured toe, it is as silent as the rain is noisy on the roof. I remove my boot to see that the swelling is nearly gone, the redness subsided. All it needed was a day of rest, a Sabbath for the toe.
What a wise and wonderful idea a Sabbath rest is. I had regarded the rain as limiting.... but maybe it was the only way my poor toe would ever be able to take a nap!
My very favorite Bible passage is in 1 Kings 18-19, when Elijah has defeated all the pagan hosts who worship Ba'al, the false God. The evil Jezebel threatens to take his life, and Elijah flees and hides in the mountains. And despite having just seen the remarkable, miraculous display of God's power in defeating the Ba'al worshippers, Elijah is in despair. Just kill me now, he calls out to God, and it is clear, poor Elijah is just plumb tuckered out. I love what God does. He sends an angel with some food. He tells Elijah to sleep, and eat, and sleep some more. And then, and only then, does He offer some Godly advice.
Personally, I would have yelled at Elijah. I would have said, "Good grief man, I show you fire from heaven licking up and defeating a host of false idols, I send rain after 3 years of drought at your bidding, I protect you from hordes of ticked off Ba'al worshippers, and you have the gall to complain and whine? Suck it up, Bucko, and thank me, you ingrate!"
But that is why I am not God. Who would want to follow me? Instead, God gently, so gently, feeds and tucks Elijah in, and says, Hush now, we will talk about it after you rest. It is my favorite picture of my Almighty Father, in His infinite tenderness, smoothing the wrinkled despair with hands of mercy and grace.