Rest In Stillness

 Living gratefully today, I say thank you to long-time friends in recovery and how they understand me and our disease. 

As I listened to a brief meditation recently, the words that remained with me were "rest in stillness."  Stillness is my word for the year, and it was good to get a reminder to consider it again. I sometimes forget. Okay, I often forget. The forgetfulness lasts for shorter periods of time though. Practice makes progress possible.

Even with recent events, elevated anxiety and emotions, diminished energy, I am remembering sooner. Remembering to relish the quiet. To sit for a moment. Pause and take a deep breath. Place my hand on my heart and feel the warmth and love within.

Rest in stillness. Mowing the lawn isn't typically a quiet or restful activity. I mowed yesterday. Sam is our usual mower, but now Darcy and I get to take it on. He mowed last week, so I took my turn this week. I have always enjoyed mowing, but it was bittersweet this time. 

I thought of Sam often, and how he is doing. I thought of the other students moving in now, and classes starting this week. Of the uncertainty and the what ifs. Then, I would pause at the end of a pass, look at the neat lines of freshly-mowed grass, and smile. That's how Sam likes to mow, leaving clean lines. 

I paused in the stillness of the moment, in spite of a noisy mower and sweat rolling down my face. In the stillness, I felt deep love for my son and enduring hope for his future, and our future.