We are deep in the school routine, but still trying to find our “stride.” Interruptions are hard, but then I think of the long winter ahead. We’ll have time to hunker down when the snow flies. And now the lake is calling.
I have a dear friend who lives a quiet life on a lake. Life has not always been “quiet” for her. She is a successful surgeon who spent years with little sleep and lots of stress. A few years ago, she took a U-turn, leaving the stability of her hospital job and settling into a log cabin on a lake. It is a walk of faith.
She invites us to come–to share the pleasures of her place. Canoes, kayaks, a walk along the shore, drinks from a mountain spring. When we are here, we are still–taking time to pick up leaves and rocks while we walk the winding path. The conversation meanders with the curve in the road and the sharing of our hearts is good.
Sure, there is laundry waiting at home, and an agenda to get back to. The time away seems short, but it is oh-so-needful. The open space, the sky reflected in water, the leaves turning with the season–these tell my soul to take a deep breath in the middle of a busy life.