Lilacs push into the bursting blue sky, practically white in their full bloom.
Late afternoon light falls across the towering trees in my front yard. Birds calling out to one another.
Mid-June is chaos. This whole month is, really. I can’t catch my breath, but God in me whispers, “Be still.”
Be still and know how He has held me close through each and every gale that has swept through. How He uses the unexpected to shape me, soothe me, because the best growth I receive comes from receiving His good.
This is a reprieve—a few moments of quiet, of pause, reflection. I cannot operate on constant full speed ahead, another project, never ending grant writing and a million little interruptions to my day. And this He knows, and so He sets me back, nudges me to slow.
Take in the drink of water that is Lake Michigan, shining like the most beautiful jewel on this June day. Dip into the green sea of rippling grass. Hear myself. Feel myself. Feel my soul speak, the poor, uncared for orphan.
Before I know it, the words come. With a melody, with a gentle smile.
I keep singing inside, quiet, steady, like my spirit moves on its own accord.
It is well.
It is well with my soul. //
Oh my soul, let us come home. Rest in remembering where He has brought you. From a stroke, the holes in your heart, to restorative joy, hope, and goodness. On the trunk that is my living room table, purple and gray with pink-tinted wildflowers The Boy gave me, propped in a mason jar. How in the world he found me can only be the nudge God gives again and again.
This is all a miracle. This is all a gift.
Such a light breeze against my flush face, warm from a desperately needed nap. Even my body tells me I am not wired to live in the mode I’ve made for myself.
Slow. Deep breathing. Stop to savor strength in quiet and trust. There is strength in stepping back, His power is in the pause. Everything grows from there.
It is well. Well worth refreshment, my soul’s restore.
Continuing my attempt at the Five Minute Friday weekly writing challenge. Five minutes to write on the assigned topic. Raw and unedited. (Yikes!) This week’s topic: Well. // symbolizes where five minutes started and/or stopped.
I read this to my mom this morning. It is beautiful. I, too, keep singing “It is well with my soul” to her as she passes from this life into the next, her lungs gradually giving way to the cancer. We expect another day or so with her, but she is remarkably strong and may hold on longer. Blessings to you, dear Sarah. Thank you for sharing your poet’s soul with us. Aimee Mae Wiley
Looking for something in particular?
Explore the archive! Organized for ease by category and year.
Add a comment
1 Comment on Rest in Remembering