I’ve started writing a new book and am about to head out on a camping trip with my mom and kids. If you’re not asking what that has to do with rest, um.... well, you might not be a parent. However, Yosemite is always restful. If you’re screaming “HOW!?!?!?!” then you are a parent. [An aside to my author/editor/agent friends. I know your grammar eyes are bleeding at that punctuation. Please don’t die over it.] But, it’s true. Yosemite is a place of rest for me.
The soaring granite peaks and flowing water are a symphony that combines with the wind whispering through the towering pines. When the Bible said the rocks and trees would cry out in worship of our Creator, I know what that sounds like. In Yosemite, they do.
So, I will be escaping regular life... (read the poem. It make my wording here funny) in order to rest. The beauty and grace of what we humans call the natural world provides a measure of rest. But true rest, for me, lies in the arms of my Creator. As you go through your day, I hope that true rest finds you.
Rest There is this thing That we humans do We run away from stressors And we call it rest, but it’s not It’s really just an attempt To get away, to escape From what is harrying us That’s not rest It’s not restful at all Not even close. Escape is just that It’s escaping, running, Getting away. When what I Really crave is rest Whole and total rest Room to breathe To let it all go and to let Peace surround me Envelope me like a caterpillar Who enters a cocoon Totally to rest so I can Grow my wing, Become a beautiful thing Spread them out So I can fly Until it is again Time to rest