Sometimes I forget.  Maybe you do, too.  Then it’s time to soak  in the depth of a quiet waters’ morning.  This week has been a ‘quiet waters’ week; a time to be restored and healed from too many  disasters worldwide, a time to be softened from the dryness, the sun parched pain patches of broken relationships. Is this even remotely possible?

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. Psalm 23: 1-3a

Days of late remind me that  my treasures are temporarily misplaced, and I must discover them anew. The words of Evelyn Underhill from The House of the Soul and Concerning the Inner Life jolted me yesterday morning  back to the real issue:

“Consider that wonderful world of life in which you are placed, and observe that its great rhythms of birth, growth and death—all the things that really matter—are not in your control.  That unhurried process will go forward in its stately beauty, little affected by your anxious fuss.  Find out, then, where your treasure really is. . . Maintain your soul in tranquil dependence on God; don’t worry; . . .”

I realize Worry has been a thief lately; she is my companion. Peace is not. When schedules are tight, days are exhausting, when news adds more tears to your already full jar, when there is more stress in the day than sunshine—then . . .

. . . it’s time for a quiet waters’ day. A day to ponder, listen and adore the One who knows us best and loves us most.  But it is difficult to release the burdens that hold me captive.  The buckles that strap them tightly around my mind and heart are not easily loosened; they are rusty from too many tears.

But I must.  I take long moments to breathe in His quiet love, to sense His presence.  I long to stay in these green pastures and be lulled to peace by the stillness of love whispers.  He is MY shepherd. . .

A text this week advised: “Don’t worry so much, Barb.  Everything always ends up exactly the way it does–worrying or not.” That is surely profound! My last words to Tom last night before sleep, “I’ve got to  discover what is important again.  I’ve lost it somewhere.”

Maybe we all need to be conscious of the important–the real important stuff of  life— helping those we can, comforting the hurting when possible, giving only slight attention and action to the moments’ personal urgent pain.

Trusting in the Treasure. . . in the tough places. . .