Exercising Gratitude: 30 Days - 4
Rest.
I am thankful for a chance - though rare - to rest. Sometimes it is more needed and more scarce. Other times rest is abundant (maybe, on some planet, somewhere, perhaps...not sure).
I am grateful to be given the opportunity to rest; that I have a choice to carve out time for it; that I have support to help me find it - somehow, somewhere.
Perhaps it is on my 'gratitude radar' lately because I've been craving it so badly. And last week I came down with an irritating cold/allergies/sniffles/misery. And it landed just as Sam and I were planning to head away for a weekend for nothing more exciting than rest: undefined time, no agenda, no deep, spiritual goals or anything - just rest.
I hear it is hard for some people to rest. I know of those people. I secretly admire them. They are productive, energetic, happy hard-workers. If that is you: Go You!! Woo hoo!! That is not me. So here I sit, recognizing that the stillness and quiet of undefined moments and hours is a cool water to my parched soul.
Our weekend away was great...until the ride home where we conflicted (read: fought, argued, misunderstood each other) - irritatingly so. In hashing that out with Sam I recognized he was very glum about ending our time on a sour note. I said, "Can you be thankful for conflict?" There's more to that, but I put it out there because I can welcome rest because it is in contrast to busy-ness, to stress, to intensity.
And so I end with a beautiful poem/hymn that reminds me how the backdrop of our lives highlights the blessings we welcome and often fail to recognize:
As water to the thirsty, as beauty to the eyes,
As strength that follows weakness, as truth instead of lies;
As song-time and spring-time and summer-time to be,
So is my Lord, my living Lord, so is my Lord to me.
Like calm in place of clamour, like peace that follows pain,
Like meeting after parting, like sunshine after rain;
Like moonlight and starlight and sunlight on the sea,
So is my Lord, my living Lord, so is my Lord to me.
As sleep that follows fever, as gold instead of gray,
As freedom after bondage, as sunrise to the day;
As home to the traveler and all we long to see,
So is my Lord, my living Lord, so is my Lord to me.
(Timothy Dudley-Smith)
I am thankful for a chance - though rare - to rest. Sometimes it is more needed and more scarce. Other times rest is abundant (maybe, on some planet, somewhere, perhaps...not sure).
I am grateful to be given the opportunity to rest; that I have a choice to carve out time for it; that I have support to help me find it - somehow, somewhere.
Perhaps it is on my 'gratitude radar' lately because I've been craving it so badly. And last week I came down with an irritating cold/allergies/sniffles/misery. And it landed just as Sam and I were planning to head away for a weekend for nothing more exciting than rest: undefined time, no agenda, no deep, spiritual goals or anything - just rest.
I hear it is hard for some people to rest. I know of those people. I secretly admire them. They are productive, energetic, happy hard-workers. If that is you: Go You!! Woo hoo!! That is not me. So here I sit, recognizing that the stillness and quiet of undefined moments and hours is a cool water to my parched soul.
Our weekend away was great...until the ride home where we conflicted (read: fought, argued, misunderstood each other) - irritatingly so. In hashing that out with Sam I recognized he was very glum about ending our time on a sour note. I said, "Can you be thankful for conflict?" There's more to that, but I put it out there because I can welcome rest because it is in contrast to busy-ness, to stress, to intensity.
And so I end with a beautiful poem/hymn that reminds me how the backdrop of our lives highlights the blessings we welcome and often fail to recognize:
As water to the thirsty, as beauty to the eyes,
As strength that follows weakness, as truth instead of lies;
As song-time and spring-time and summer-time to be,
So is my Lord, my living Lord, so is my Lord to me.
Like calm in place of clamour, like peace that follows pain,
Like meeting after parting, like sunshine after rain;
Like moonlight and starlight and sunlight on the sea,
So is my Lord, my living Lord, so is my Lord to me.
As sleep that follows fever, as gold instead of gray,
As freedom after bondage, as sunrise to the day;
As home to the traveler and all we long to see,
So is my Lord, my living Lord, so is my Lord to me.
(Timothy Dudley-Smith)
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