Curtains swaying with the breeze. Birds chirping out a madly
contagious “good morning sun! good morning wind! Good morning all, wake up wake
up!” Coffee pot sluggishly coming to life, so too my mind. Otherwise, there is
the silence and peace that only an early weekend dawn offers. My life has
seemed so rushed for the past, well, as long as my harried memory can groggily
recall, that this morning comes as a precious gift. I savor the stillness,
allowing myself to float along & meld into the sense of timelessness.
In more than one way, I’ve come to the point of repose;
decisions were made, details organized, changes implemented, and now there
comes a period of stillness. More like my body & heart demand a time of recovery. It’s been incredible to realize how much
stress had silently accumulated and to experience simple conversations that somehow
find tripwires I didn’t know were there. Welcome to the let-down phase.
Do you ever notice how neat and tidy fairy tales are? How no
one ever experiences that let-down phase (congratulations, you’re a prince
now!), or has PTSD (a giant almost ate you!), or requires any sort of extended
period of healing (your dad died and your mom tried to kill you!)? In many
tales death is completely reversible.[1]
For lengthy physical illnesses the cure is generally instantaneous with the aid
of a magical cup, spoon, hair, plant, etc. The princess sacrificed to the
dragon is rescued and voilà! Happily ever after, no counseling required. No lifelong
aversion to lizards or fire.
The “wouldn’t it be grand to just have it done with and move
on?” thought is so tempting, but accepting that thought in haste does not do
justice to the way we were designed. Applying a narrative feature to life would
exclude a part of life’s beauty that escapes story. Think about it. What if all
you did was climb a mountain, never pausing at vistas or the pinnacle to look
back over the path? There were boulders and bugs and blisters birthing baby
blisters and you really felt like giving up numerous times and maybe your legs
still feel like wilty lettuce, but check
out your new horizon! Accomplishment, beauty, awe, appreciation, deeper
knowledge, personal insight—these cannot be glossed over and, fortunately or
unfortunately, are only found when you walk the path. “Just having done with
it” frequently results in forfeiting the benefits of reflection & rest, not
to mention exacts a high toll on your endurance.
On those same trails, you encounter cairns, those stacks of
rocks made by others on the same path. In more rugged, remote areas they mark
the trail but many others serve no purpose except as a statement of “I was here”
to assert a claim or tie to a place. This is no new concept—all throughout the
Old Testament (and predating it) there are stories of people leaving markers to
recall events, most relating to God’s miraculous intervention[2].
This is my goal for the next couple weeks: to take out of my pockets the stones
that have been weighing me down, roll them around in my hands a little, and
intentionally arrange them to stick out—to be visible—to call attention to and
name what this path has been but even more to be a landmark proclaiming the
Lord’s goodness.
How I hope you will experience moments of repose! How I wish
to encourage you! I am by no means good or perfect at allowing myself to rest, as
evidenced by my wilty lettuce legs and tripwires, but from this vantage point
clearly see its necessity. May you allow yourself rest, and may there be abundant
strength and insight for you there.
[1] The Three Snake-Leaves involves being
brought back to life with leaves previously used by a snake to bring another
snake back to life after he was chopped into 3 pieces. Märchen has some weird stuff.
[2]
Joshua ch.4 is just one example. And that old hymn phrase, “here I raise mine
Ebenezer”? Yep. Direct reference to another example, this one from 1 Samuel
7:10-13.
