Overwhelmed

Finding a place of rest

Ever feel overwhelmed by so many urgent, anxious thoughts, that you just can’t think straight? It feels a little like drowning.

In the fall of last year, I rose early with what felt like a thousand things to accomplish. My mind whirled like a pinball machine. Each morning, an invisible hand reached down, pulled back the lever and sent me hurtling into the day ahead. As the levers slammed back and forth, I would bob and weave through the course, so that I didn’t crash into the obstacles.

I felt pummeled with the “to-dos” on my never-ending list. Each thought collided with the next, so that I could not seem to capture and hold them still long enough to focus on a single task.

Instead, my racing thoughts came one after the other until I was weary of the journey through the obstacles that tossed me left and right, like a ragdoll with no bones.

But I doggedly remained on my course, determined to get things done, slamming through my day, always looking ahead to what was next, completing tasks and exhausting myself in the process.

I had the mistaken belief that the world needed ME to be in control of everything. As it my life would implode if I didn’t accomplish every task I felt obligated to do.

One morning, I unplugged the machine. I turned my back on my list of tasks, walked out the door and headed for Lithia Park, sixteen miles south, tucked away in the foothills of Ashland, Oregon. Seeking a sanctuary of healing for my battered mind and weary soul, I climbed the trail. Lithia Creek rushed by on my right, drowning out the roar of my thoughts that went nowhere, ever circling, never landing.

Here, at last, perhaps I can be still.

As I climb, the air is pungent with the smell of leaves, green and new. The ground beneath my feet is carpeted with a fine layer of needles, The tangy aroma of pine and fir fill my lungs. Birdsong plays in the trees arching over the creek as a cool breeze sweeps over me. The canopy of trees above surrounds me like a cloak.

I hear the sound of the creek, as it tumbles over rocks and twists and turns on its way. Dappled light filters through the leaves, falling on the flow of water. Quiet eddies swirl between rocks. Further along, the water froths with white foam set alight by beams of sunlight.

Oh, that I could be that water. Alive. Flowing freely on course, as it was designed. The song it sings to me lowers my anxiety, as I stand and listen for the voice of the Lord. I hear him in the echo of the flow calling to me:

“Peace be still, you don’t have to do so much. I am near.”

His words are a gentle chorus to my heart; a balm flowing from the sights and sounds of His creation.

The roar of the creek is the sound of his voice singing over me:

“Trust in me. Let it go - I am working.

Be still, be restored.

Be patient - I will meet your needs.

Be quiet, anxious daughter.

Come away and rest in my presence.”

***

The words of Isaiah 26:3 come to mind,

“You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you,

because he trusts in you.”

Perfect . . . Peace.

When I am overwhelmed, I come seeking Jesus in such a place. I lift my hands in surrender and let him wash me clean from struggles, anxiety and strife.

He holds me and brings peace and restoration, a rest I cannot grasp in my own hands. But his gentle hands cradle me; safe, and secure. I hear the echo of His words: “Cease striving and know that I am God.”

As I look around me, I see that nothing is perfect. But it is beautiful and soothing and simple. His thoughts fill mine, bringing quietness and renewal.

“Remember, my over planning daughter -

Perfection does not equal satisfaction and peace.

Sometimes the simplest things are enough

and any more than that is overwhelming.”

And then I understand.

I am not meant to be overwhelmed by anything but God.