Tip of My Iceberg

Wandering can be purposeful.

When I was younger, I’d wander off on my own, for I had a sense that adventure awaited me just past the purview of my folks.

That was never acceptable.

sWhen my children were younger, their wandering caused me great concern–especially in stores where my mind immediately went to worst-case scenarios; they’d been snatched.

That never actually happened.

For me, as an adult with time to pursue the new and unexplored, wandering has an edge of anticipation, awe, and wonder.

No different an attitude than when I was younger; I now have permission. My own.

We’re in a place of calm and quiet in northern Georgia where neither John nor I have ever been. We’ve spent days talking, developing a context for our time here. It’s hard to imagine, but we’ve talked more in the past five days than we have in the past five months. We’ve committed wholeheartedly to our jobs, with the resulting effect of exhaustion by the end of the day and little energy for communication.

Interacting is necessary, but having never been to this area of the country, exploring is a delightful means of discovery. At every turn, there are places of pause that draw me in and invite me to just be. To sit and feel the quiet fill my soul. Whether it’s beautiful trees, a slow moving river, or tiny fawns that couldn’t be more than a few days old, there is awe and wonder everywhere I look.

Serenity is a soft blanket of calm that stills my mind and keeps me from rushing to the next thing to do, from moving so quickly I miss what’s in front of me. It’s the deep resonance of wind chimes playing new tunes with each breath of air. It’s clouds floating through the sky, shapes morphing as they travel, shadows created and dissipated in a moment.

Serenity is what my heart, soul, and mind need right now.

I always need it, that sense of calm that is greater than the demands of my life. The peace of a pause that isn’t as ethereal as I think it is.

I just haven’t made the time to notice it much before.

This quiet space isn’t something that can be found only when I leave my work routine and requirements of home. It’s not elusive or playfully hiding from me.

It isn’t a place at all.

It’s an attitude. A determination to pause when busyness threatens to unravel my core being.

I’m not good at it.

It’s easier to accomplish when faced with space to do it in. When there are no immediate demands on my time or energy.

But what happens in the midst of the daily chaos of life? Is there no way of resting in the midst of the storms?

Jesus invited all to come to Him, and He would give us rest. A gift. From One who knows the reality of the rhythms of all life and still sees us individually in our need. Rest for the weary, the worn-out, the heavy-hearted, the deeply wounded.

Rest isn’t an action. It’s a Person. One who knows our need for rest and offers to teach us how to do it.

No matter where we are, no matter how busy our schedules.

He is serenity.