Sometimes you need a real place
To carry your cares to,
A place you can tuck into,
For a little while,
A pocket
Of heaven-on-earth,
Where beauty
Is Gildead’s balm
To the heart-weary soul.
A long history of barefoot wanderings
Brought me here
Over the web-laced green bridge,
Down the cool, round cobblestone path.
My neighbours garden.
My resting place.
Where I can stare
Until I’m soaked
Until I blend
And I let the beauty
Gently brush
The cares
Off my shoulders.
She’s ever creative,
My neighbour,
Dreaming newness into
Small spaces,
Yet
Ever hallowing
The old, familiar.
Her flowers,
Such gracious companions,
The soft blue delphis,
Such astute listeners,
The bright-faced daisies and day lilies,
Ever nodding congenially,
Her cheeky sunflowers,
Waving their generous welcome,
The purple and gold splashed pansies,
Grinning giddy
In their pixie-wee faces,
And the demure lilies of the valley,
Snuggled tight under shade,
Beckoning I come
Humble down
To breathe them in
Deeply.
The giant swing awaits,
Arms open to receive,
The Muskoka chairs
Invite me
To rest.
And I think about how much
Of this life I now live
Wouldn’t be and couldn’t be
Without this
For me
To let go
And be care-less
With a care-full
God.
Here where
Holy Spirit collected
Each tear like a precious pearl,
Where my words planted
Prayers,
Where the flowers
Heard the dreams,
And kept the secrets,
Faithful.
Here where
I would sing myself
Sane
Again
Time and time
Again.
So I gather it close
Now
Delighting in its nearness
And wait here again.
Wait till I blend
In with the flowers.
Wait till I’m once again
care-free.
See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.
Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.
If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?
So do not worry…seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.
Matthew 6: 28-34
sacred rest 