The Willow

You are the wind and I am the Willow.
You can’t be seen except in traces and fingerprints. In the ways You move me- the ways You make me dance & cause me to rustle and shake.
You can’t be heard except for in quiet whispers when breezes produce sounds of rustling leaves on slender branches,

You are the earth that I am planted firmly in. I do not drift when I am in You.
You are warm. You give life-
sweet and steadfast- that is what You are.

You are the flowers and I am the leaves. I am simple. I change and fall away, You bloom in brilliant colors.
I bask in Your complexity- Your ability to take my simplicity and make me beautiful.

You are the wind. You are the willow. You are the earth and the flowers.
You are everything.


Just be.

I flip the pages of my calendar and land on the third week of March. Staring down, I breathe in the white space.
There is so much of it.
Too much of it.

Anxious thoughts flood my mind. Why aren’t you doing more? Fill that time. Make plans to do something, to go somewhere, to work.

I claim to be the biggest supporter of self-care like, ever. I’m all about telling people that they should take a Sabbath and spend time relaxing. You’re exhausted and feeling wrung out and weak? Go take a nap. Take a day- maybe two- and get your bearings back. Spend time with yourself. Go on a walk and enjoy the sunshine. Eat an ice cream cone and get extra sprinkles. Heck, get extra EXTRA sprinkles! Treat yourself for goodness sake! You deserve time to reenergize and refill.

See? See how easy it is for me to tell you to take care of yourself?

When I myself am weary, the voice in my head speaks words of a harsher variety. The desire to earn this sweet life that I have been given is carved into my bones. It runs through my veins and beats in my chest. Give me some kind of work, a job, or maybe a task of some sort to make me feel like I have done my part to deserve the incredible grace, the majestic mercy, the brilliant hope that has been extended to me.

The white space terrifies me. Give me something to keep me busy. Give me anything but nothing. I can’t do nothing. Every piece of my heart leans toward the law of this world- a world oriented around accomplishments and fueled by to-do lists.

A small voice tugs gently, wishing me to listen.

Be still, child.
Slow down and rest with me a while.
I want you to know the sounds of my whisper in the warm breeze of the afternoon.
I want you to memorize the silhouettes of the mountains at sunrise and the sweet sound of your mama’s laugh.
Seek refuge in me and know that I am enough. You are enough.
I don’t want you to do, I want you to be.
Slow down. Drink in my goodness.
Be still.

I glance at the page and breathe in the white again. It rushes into my lungs and pumps through my body in the form of sweet freedom, blessed relief.