When the garden is overrun, even if it is full with a beautiful bounty, too much of a good thing can still be, well, too much.
I realized the other day that having so many things I could do -- all good things -- gives me such the adrenaline rush. Sometimes it's hard to kick the habit, to leave the high, to slow down the race, to sit awhile.
But on Thursday, the day I take my sabbath while the kids are at school, I could feel beyond that addictive draw, the pulse that beat in my heart was rest.
And as I sunk into my chair, I buried my head in my book and when my thoughts threatened to deviate from the storyline, I remembered His words to me:
You have permission not to think.
And so, I buried my head again and again.
I buried my head and tried to let my heart beat with the heart of God, when He rested that seventh day.
And finally I could read no longer and I took at the pencil set, gifted to my by my sweet husband for Christmas. I tore off the plastic wrap and opened...
And the world of art laid out before me, a new playground each time on which to dance, a play with Jesus as He helps me overcome that which got to be to much.
And through the curves, He whispers.
I AM your hiding place.
|same picture, but I love how the light plays on the girl|
Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.