Against my better sense, I open the email. Our local community college is pitching a continuing education class called Pine Needle Basketry. This strikes me funny, and I do an internal eye-roll. Ha! That will be the day. And I direct my forefinger toward the delete button. But then, hmm . . . 

I certainly do have an endless supply of pine needles. What a lovely skill to know! Talk about making beauty from ashes! How soothing, to sit and weave a basket just like the Native American women who lived in these woods before me. With needles perhaps fallen from the same trees.

Just thinking about it, tranquility washes over me–which is all it can offer; there’s no way I could wedge that class into my schedule without losing some tranquility on the other end.

For kicks, I imagine the look on Garth’s face if I were to announce I’d signed up for this class. He’s sweet and patient, yet he’s not getting enough of me as it is. The whole process of running the basket-making class through my Best-Yes filter takes less than thirty seconds.

I imagine moms with empty or emptying nests like me do this all day long. Invitations arrive, opportunity knocks. And we consider things simply because we can now that we’re not hip-deep in full-time parenting. And because we’re still forming the new dream.

Holy rest. God modeled it and his Word promises he’ll provide it.

Snuggling with a grandchild. Dipping our toes in ocean froth. Dabbing at a canvas with a paintbrush. Tea with a friend. Reading a novel. Anytime I run out the door with my camera, aimlessly chasing the waning golden light, I sense his pleasure in my playtime. 

But fighting for me-time isn’t suddenly a thing of the past; we still have work, commitments, responsibilities. Yet most of us secondhalf-ers have more agency over our lives now. Boundlessly more.

Every day I have more choice than I care to admit. Enough flexibility to tie myself in knots.

Our lives are now more limber to enjoy the things we treasure. So maybe the question we need to be asking ourselves is What do we treasure most?

Philosopher Dallas Willard said, “The most important commandment of the Judeo-Christian tradition is to treasure God and his realm more than anything else. . . . Our only wisdom, safety, and fulfillment lies in so treasuring God.”

Treasuring God isn’t toil; it’s not another thing to be done. It’s freedom from meaningless toil. Jesus said we don’t always need to be useful to the Father; we’ve only to remain conscious that we’re his children (See Matthew 6:26-28). But how do we “consider the lilies” all the time? Where do I find margin to abide so completely? Do I need more days off?

As I practice spiritual discipline exercises (in my own clunky way), I’m finding more peace in both my work and rest. Practices such as using fewer but fuller words. Living unhurried. Intentionality of my time and energy. Lightening my load of possessions to be maintained. In her book Abundant Simplicity: Discovering the Unhurried Rhythms of Grace, Jan Johnson writes,

The point of simplicity is not efficiency, increased productivity or even living a healthier, more relaxed life. The point is making space for treasuring God’s own self.

I’m pretty good at buzzing through my to-do list. I can sleepwalk through my daily routine, propelled by anxiety. Or I can learn to better quiet my spirit and live more fully awake to God’s presence.

I can make space to treasure him within the everyday chaos as well as beside quiet waters.

Space in my conversations as well as in silence.

Space in my relationships as well as in my alone time. 

Space in my worklife and in my down time.

Space for my soul to rest while he does the driving.

There’s a time for complete rest and a need for self-care. But maybe it begins with letting go of life-draining behaviors in order to pay full attention to where I am and appreciate what I already have.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. -Jesus

Maybe God’s rest doesn’t always involve palm trees or a babbling brook.

What a shame if I miss this lesson.

I’m convinced God pays less attention to what we’re doing and more to who we’re becoming. How we order our lives will naturally reflect either our inner growth toward Christ or our wandering away from him.

I don’t want to order my life around a set amount of me-time. I want to order my life to grow closer to Christ. And closeness to Christ, in turn, helps me order my life toward peace and sanity. So that I’ll give my Best Yes to things that won’t leave me wanting. Perhaps even pine needle basketry . . . in the right season.

Psalm 23 says it beautifully, and I paraphrase:

With the Lord as my shepherd, the one I follow and adore, I shall lack no good thing.

He takes care of my me-time, because he takes care of me.

He teaches me to distinguish between what’s good and true and what’s lame and worthless.

He soothes my night terrors about the scary world out there and how it could affect me and my loved ones.

He’s my protector and provider.

He brings me so many joy-gifts my heart can’t possibly hold them all.

He infuses my life with purpose.

He satisfies my deepest longings like nothing the world offers.

He already secured my future home and is styling it just for me. An eternally meaningful existence in a place of unstained beauty and fathomless love.

I’m curious, which line of this Psalm 23 paraphrase do you especially need to rest in today?

Linking up today with these writers of hope: Holley Gerth, Purposeful Faith, and Be Thee Inspired.

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