Rest is a girl in the snow, backpack flung to the side, lunchbox discarded in powdery white . . . . .twirling, twirling . . . . .arms outstretched . . . head upturned . . . mouth wide and tongue out. Receiving. . . . the gift of snow; silent, beautiful, falling snow.
Rest is active and yet is is delight. It is is motion within utter stillness. It is receiving in the act of Being. Rest happens within His presence. And it requires all of ours. It is passion fully expressed yet lost in Him. Duty forgotten. Ultimate expression of purpose.
It is good.
(and I’m still remembering how to live in it!)