I woke up this morning with nothing to say, so I gave myself a present and didn’t try. Instead I sat on the porch of the Story Shack, coffee cup in hand, and felt the rainy mist blow on my face. I don’t think Estee Lauder sells anything that makes your face feel the way rain does. Or as one of my favorite Nanci Griffith songs puts it, Oh, I wish it would rain; it’s gonna wash my face clean; I wanna find some dark cloud to hide in here . . .
After my rain spa, I wrapped up in a favorite throw my aunt gave me and took a stroll around the yard. It’s amazing what has been going on out there while I had my head buried in a computer.
My camelia bush is blooming. So is the rosemary. At the same time, leaves are beginning to turn (they might be on weeds, but they're still pretty), and the spiders have been having a field day making webs. They’ve done it all with no help from me because I’ve made no time for them. By the end of my stroll, I was breathing differently. And I realized that sometimes, the little slices of life that we think we have no time for are the very ones that will give us the peace we need—if we let them.
Thankful this morning for peaceful stillness and rain splashing on rocks and wind in the trees and green turning to gold.
But ask the animals, and they will teach you,
or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you;
or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,
or let the fish in the sea inform you.
Which of all these does not know
that the hand of the LORD has done this?
In his hand is the life of every creature
and the breath of all mankind.
Job 12:7-10
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