Return, O my soul, to your rest

I really don't like the title to my last blog. I couldn't think of an appropriate title and I read that line in a book. Doesn't it seem like it is trying too hard? Who knows what I'll title this puppy - hopefully it'll be something a little less predictable.

This morning I went on a run near Sass' father's place. It was a path that overlooks a canyon and feels pretty desert-y. In fact, I only got a couple minutes into it before I stopped because I could hear a rattling over John Foreman's sweet singing in my ear bug. As in snakes. As in snakes that rattle and are called rattlesnakes. I mean, truly, it isn't a big deal. Rattle snakes exist in this part of the world, especially in a city protected habitat (think the "wetlands" in east Gresham surrounded by suburban homes) and are a part of everyday life. Of course, that doesn't mean that every time I heard a rattling I didn't whip my head in the direction of the soft and slithery din and pick up my pace. One wonderful part of my little adventure, however, was coming to a high point in the path where I could overlook the canyon. It was absolutely beautiful in a small and unexpected way.

And now, I am sitting on a back porch that overlooks said canyon from a different angle. It is welcoming from this lower, less threatening perspective and I am rather partial to the clear blue of the sky and the duller green of the canyon. It is a different beauty. Beauty changes, doesn't it? Finch is across the world experiencing the beauty that man created and appreciating the rolling of a river that is beautiful mostly because of the experiences it has had: how many have joined in its current in search of success, new life, love, fortune, war. We read about people in history books but they are not people unless we pluck them from our minds and from the prison of words on a page and deposit them in a certain place under a certain occupation with certain hopes and dreams and values. Oh, drink it in!

I looked in my journaling Bible for scripture pertaining to "rest". I was inspired by a hymn written in 1876. The words were written by Jean Pigott and they resonate clearly and loudly in my soul.

Jesus, I am resting, resting,

In the joy of what Thou art;

I am finding out the greatness

Of Thy loving heart.

Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,

And Thy beauty fills my soul,

For by Thy transforming power,

Thou hast made me whole.

I also read Hebrews 4:1-13. I felt understood for the first time in a long time this morning. I think it was the lack of "go, go, go, be, be, be, fix, fix, FIX!" that has echoed in my mind for weeks and weeks.

So, after an easy, unhurried morning of sleep, exercise, food, Jesus and (finally) a shower, I find it is afternoon and time for a jab at some homework. Cass will return soon and I will see more of her world this evening.