I stare up at the veiny roof spread high above between these two guardians, a canopy of cracks and peepholes to heaven, light raining down glory.
I cannot decide where to place my hands - by my side? Beneath my head? - and settle them finally across my diaphragm, where I feel each breath as prayer and meditation. The struggle all week to breathe deep culminates here in intentional practice of surrender. My body fills, expands, loosens.
And I listen to the wind, untangling leaves as it combs through the branches.
I become small once more, spread open, sandwiched between earth and sky. This tree, whose roots now support me, its bark is lined with ruts, wooden wrinkles set so deep it emanates holy mystery. I could wrap three times the span of my arms around its trunk, I think. I reach out and place a hand gently on its skin and wonder if I might, here, feel God's
pulse.
I flip over on my belly, my cheek against the blanket against the earth, my nose tucked in close to my arm. The scent of my human musk, of miles walked and biked in the sun today and soaked into my pores, rises like burning incense. I am reminded from where I come and where, one day, I will return.
On the edge of the blanket, a speck of moth rests. I am grateful for this fellowship. We are not moth and human in this moment, but God's creation under care, called to rest and enjoy.
We breathe in, and God sings through the wind in the trees, and I don't know what is being sung, but it is more than enough.
* * * * *
I'm linking my words today with Unforced Rhythms. To tell you the truth, I wasn't planning to today or anytime soon. I planned to take a break from posting on my blog, for a number of reasons, but when this happened Saturday evening, I came back and the writing flowed so, well, unforced. This post came as a refreshing follow-up to my last post, which you can find here. I hope, in some way, if you have been struggling to find rest as I have, this might speak to your weary heart.
Amber this post is just... holy cow... beautiful... and whispers ::rest:: to my weary places. Really, sister. Thank you so much for sharing it at Kelli's today. Much love to you. And continued restorative moments like these.
ReplyDeleteDana, you probably understand how this kind of feedback is received with a grateful breath and a prayer, "Thank you, Lord." May you continue to hear, to feel, those whispers over all your weary places, in whatever form they come to you. You are loved, sweet friend.
Deletecoming here from Chronicles of Grace blog. I really appreciate your writing here. I relate to the "feelingness" of it...so often I do the same, looking at the leaves...and i love especially how you say the breeze untangles the leaves. Nature is where God speaks to me and I relate here. I'll be sticking around, having recently connected here at Chronicles of Grace.
ReplyDeleteCarol, I'm so blessed by your presence here. And after visiting your blog and reading your gorgeous reflection, I can see why you could relate to my writing. Nature is a beautiful meeting place for God and a connection point with other hearts who sense him there, is it not? I enjoyed hearing how you see and experience his presence and I look forward to more.
DeleteOh, wow, Amber....it is like I am right there...soaking up this PEACE and rest...in person. You have an amazing gift. Your words are powerfully-infused with God's amazing grace and love. I just love reading what you have to say. I leave here refreshed...almost as if I had felt that breeze and gazed upward between those branches into the face of God. So very thankful I clicked on your link at Unforced Rhythms. God bless you, my sweet friend. :)
ReplyDeleteCheryl, your words are always filled with such love and grace. I appreciate your heart. And I'm so grateful to God that these words here wrapped you up and allowed you to soak and rest... this is what I hope for in my writing, for others, and I am so humbled when it happens. Thank you for being here, and blessings of continued peace and rest for you, friend.
DeleteI'm so glad you found a place of rest, Amber and I hope there will be many more.
ReplyDeleteThis line says it all for me: "We are not moth and human in this moment, but God's creation under care, called to rest and enjoy."
I'm so grateful, too, Kelly. And thank you for being here.
Delete"God sings through the wind in the trees, and I don't know what is being sung, but it is more than enough." ... this is my very favorite part of this refreshing post. To hear the music and dance with it and let it lead, even when you don't understand the words, well, that is a freedom that only comes from knowing the conductor himself as your faithful friend. I'm so very glad you shared these words with us.
ReplyDelete"...that is a freedom that only comes from knowing the conductor himself as your faithful friend." Thank you for speaking this to me, helping me to see some of what lies beneath that is sometimes hard for me to see myself. Grateful for you, Beth.
DeleteMy friend, how I hope you are gathering up some deeply needed soul rest AND I wanted to thank you for writing this. For allowing your experience of God in that place to nourish us. As others have said, this caused me to feel such refreshment -- a deep inhale and exhale -- from the Creator. Your gift is so luminous, friend, and I am grateful for all those being touched by your tender connection with our Maker through the natural world. I love you and am proud of you. Grateful to be your friend. xoxo
ReplyDelete