Soul Rest

Somewhere there is a quiet place to dream
To be still, and let the world drop away
You know that place
You could paint it on a canvas
it’s different for everybody, this place.
It’s like a familiar friend and you
always know it when you’ve found it.
It is the moment your soul has found rest,
safely landed….
when all the conditions are right and
you feel like everything in
the universe is working with you 
right then.
Every now and again it happens
in this life, and when it does
it is something like
a little miracle.
It’s not so much a structure
or building…..
You could find it on a street corner
far from home….
It’s that place you discover when you are
all by yourself
maybe rounding a hill
or walking through a clearing
or seeing a light shining through
a little alley way
No matter where it is,
you turn as if to say…..look! 
You want to share it
with someone close.
And then again you almost don’t. 

You want it

to be just yours……
and God’s.
I think this place is something we all
have in common, for is there anyone who
does not dream of such a place?
When you see it, something
in you wants to claim
it as your own
It feels like home
You breathe a little prayer of thanks,
because you just know that God
has dropped it out of the sky
just for you!
I found this little building behind the cabin next door that we rented earlier this month. I immediately claimed it as my own and dubbed it My Writer’s Shack. It intrigued me, stuck back there in the woods. One night I actually thought I saw a light on in the little window, but maybe I just wanted to. I had fun painting a little scene for myself there. I saw myself sitting behind that window, kerosene lamp lit in a comfy chair watching big flakes of snow coming down…books and journal at hand. I have no idea if that cabin was a rental or not. It could be that they used the little building as storage, but I had fun imagining what it could be.  
Be at rest sometime this weekend, and be blessed!

One thought on “Soul Rest

  1. I always imagined going to a Writer's Colony, or holing myself up somewhere, totally alone, and reading and writing…

    but then I like conversation too much — and serious writers are grumpy.


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