There is a place
in each moment,
a soft, gentle space for breath
to unfold slow
and deep and safe,
where ample rest welcomes and waits
like a tall glass of lay-me-down
and it whispers welcome
to every lift and settle of my heart.
And there is a stream there,
a place for tired feet to go bare against cool, smooth pebbles
glimmering songs of here and now and love that fills
and of rest that presses it’s weight against the weary of me
like honeysuckle kissing evening air
and it nourishes and calls
and I can answer if I will.
Cause sometimes I wreck this heart by rushing,
wanting to flop down into the finally of having everything wrapped up done
and it’s crazy how my mind can wedge me into stories that steal away my peace
and set me to running from rest,
flying scared because I get to thinking
that it’s the push and squeeze that saves me.
Some days I forget to remember
to respond to the living rest
that lifts me from this weary way I sometimes keep,
to remember that
rest is a brave place to be.
I have missed coming around to visit you! I’ll be climbing the steps to your porch
in a little while. Big wide spaciousness to each of you, friends,
with a whole heap of love.