As I thumbed through pictures on my phone, I found myself stuck on a pastoral picture from Switzerland. I was transported to the crisp afternoon when I stood in a valley looking all around me. I could hear the cowbells. The gentle wind was whispering through my hair. Everything in the scene restored my heart then and it was doing the same now. While I could not pinpoint one specific thing, the whole told a very different story. Along the way, I have been reminded of the following.
Time for restoration and recreation within is always a good investment. My body aches. I can feel the stress taking its toll. As I look at the picture and remember, I can hear the invitation to slow down and rest. The nearby inn called out for a visit. The meal and setting captured my heart while the tranquillity transformed my soul. I left energized and my tank filled with plenty in reserve.
There is purpose in stillness and quietness. When I do not see it, I know it can be found. When I do not feel it, letting myself drift into the space opens doors and windows which take me to a place of health and renewed strength. Life seems to endlessly call me to action. At times, the best action is to let go, say nothing, and be present for the stillness that follows with an embrace.
One might think letting go and being still is easy. At times, it is the most difficult choice I know I must make. Everything within is calling me to act, even though I am not sure what the best choice might be. The pressure to do something, anything, trumps my awareness of the need to be restored. Even when there are no reserves, the pull is to use whatever is left. In turning to Divinity in silence, I experience the aw3e of experiencing “how that patience, in turn, forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next.” (Romans 5.4). Reserves help make a difference.
