I had a birthday last week, and while I don't put much stock in the ticking of time, the turning of calendar pages, I do like a good gift. I treasure the thoughtfulness of presents and the reminders they become after their tradition-tethered hand-off.
But then, there are things, and the thinking on of things, and the searching out of things. For this girl, that means lists: wish lists, grocery lists, to-read lists, and so on. All of these lists get a bit consuming. Instead of proclaiming decisiveness, they are divisive.
As the days (years...) pass, for me, less becomes more. The less I fill up my head and my body, my heart and spirit become voluptuous with life and love. It is counterintuitive, but a steadfast stillness and dedication brings me so much more than I thought it could. When restlessness comes upon me I find rest in Him, which is a daily dedication: a parting of the pages, a parting of lips, a parting of my spirit from my flesh. Peeling back upon itself like the shedding of snakeskin, until I see a hollow thing that looks somewhat like me lying on the floor before me. Still like me, but without all this blessed life.
1 Thessalonians 4: 11-12
"And that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own business, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded you; That ye may walk honestly toward them that are without, and that ye may have lack of nothing."