My days last week were full of responsibilities and writing. My office looks like a cyclone hit with piles of notes and snippets everywhere. Today I am trying to re-establish order. Sorting through piles, filing and pitching. I came across two and a half pages of scribbled notes on a steno pad. They must have been written this spring when I was considering writing a book about rest. Just reading them caused me to pause.

Stop, breathe and give thanks.

Here are my scribblings. May you also find release as you read them.

I re-read my journals and watch the melody line of words soar and dive. The pages are full of soft, generous days, sunlight and laughing clouds. Then there are plummets into the depths of relational pain and tension.

When I am alone with You, Abba, all is well. Rest is easy. Life is good. When my focus turns to circumstances and people, a thief enters and smashes rest to the ground.

If I’m to write a book about rest, I will need Your lead. So much of my life has been filled with inner turmoil and striving. My journals are full.

I had such wonderful times with You in Your creation. I listened as Your ordered world moved in a symphony. The jack-hammering drum of woodpeckers beat in a perfect duet with  violin whispered breezes. Cottonwood leaves danced like frenzied tea cups on hooks. Frogs are sunned themselves on a half submerged willow log. And turtles played hide and seek, heads bobbing above and then below the surface of the pond.

When I close my eyes, I can smell the moist earth and fresh cut grass. The honey fragrance of peonies slips into the mix. All is at peace. All is at rest. Rest is easy here in this memory place.

So many times we met there in my secret garden beside the pond. Winter, summer, spring, and fall. I sat with You bundled in layers and boots or barefoot and sleeveless with ants crawling up the frame of my lawn chair. We talked. We laughed. You held me. I cried, sang, danced.

They were good rich times, hard times, learning times. Building relationship and trust. Learning to hear You. Learning to see You written in the slow blooming butterfly bush with its sweet, almost tobacco like fragrance. I gazed in awe at Your majesty in gathering storm clouds unloading hail on a triple digit day.

Always surprises. Always new revelation and glory.  In the midst of unpredictable wonders, You remained unchanged.

Life with You is forever Good.

Thank You, Abba for the joy of knowing You at an early age and having the privilege of walking with You all my life. Even when You had to carry me kicking and screaming, my journals show Your faithfulness and love.  I rest in You.