It’s starting to sink in how much of my life is spent striving.

Striving to stay healthy, not offend anyone, be everything to everybody possible, be available, be open, be real, be safe, be me. I’m not sure I remember what it feels like to truly rest.

I’ve been sticking close to home a lot more lately–not hiding in a shell, but curled up in a chrysalis. Wait. Maybe chrysalis isn’t a good analogy, since that implies I will eventually open up into something new. I’m not sure I’m supposed to be–or that I want to be–something new. I want to be something real. I want to be who I already am.

For me, resting doesn’t mean shutting out the world. It means paying attention to what heals me, calms me, makes me feel fully alive in this life God created for me. This grateful, beautiful life.

I’m working on another book, and while I find myself scrambling for motivation to really get words flowing I find the process as a whole getting easier. I think it took getting that first book out there for me to believe I actually have something to say that someone else might want to read. I can be a little slow to believe in myself.

And so while I am resting, I am also working hard here in my little office overlooking the yard and palm trees and dock and lake with sandhill cranes loping and cardinals flitting and the wind chimes singing me a breezy Florida winter song. Writing is calming for me, and this is the perfect place for it.

I spend a lot of time alone, but I am never lonely. I’ve grown deeply introspective lately, but it has me examining some things that merit close attention. I find it drawing me closer to God in ways I couldn’t have imagined. With the Holy Spirit as my ever-present companion I could never be truly alone.

These are days of grief and fear, but also of gratitude and joy. I struggle to word how those things can all be present at once, but as I move the days and years of my life I am realizing more and more just how complex the living of this life can be–and how difficult to word.

But I go on trying to word it, this story of mine that only I can tell. I keep showing up, hoping somehow it will be used to give someone hope.

If I have nothing else to offer, there’s always hope.


One thought on “Rest

  1. I love your description of resting … paying attention to what heals you, calms you and makes you fully alive in the beautiful life God created for you.
    I understand how you could be experiencing all those things at once. Someone very wise taught me to just let each one pour over me and to live in every moment of them.
    Praying you up. Love you, my friend.

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