Made Plain

Plain: adj.
1. Free from obstructions; open to view; clear.

















It's pretty awesome when someone understands the way you're wired. Luckily, with my friend Cass, it's like she got the manual straight from God.

She sent this thought my way this morning, and said that it reminded her of me.

"I went into the woods for I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what it had to teach... I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."~~Henry David Thoreau

I adore Thoreau, so this delightful little quote was cool to read, and a nice way to return from lunch. However, as I processed it, I was struck by an incredibly physical feeling.

When God tries to cut through the clutter of my day, he does it in the most remarkable way - I feel a little shiver creep up my spine and run through my body. My face flushes and my upper arms tingle. It's sort of like the feeling you get when you reach the summit of a rollercoaster's hill, when your body flies up a few inches and is weightless.

I'd never pinned this feeling down, but as the coincidence of this moment struck me, I distinctly recognized the voice of God saying, Pay attention, Allyson. (He uses my full name to let me know it's Him.)

I had remarked to someone yesterday that I haven't had a rejuvenating Sabbath in a while. It does my heart and mind endless good to be refreshed, and Saturdays are my day to visit the well and quench my thirst. There's no pressure - work is still two days away, and there's a whole lot of possibility spread about in front of me.

Sometimes my Sabbath consists of wandering a museum and capturing thoughts of God's beautifully creative influence on humans in my journal. Other times, it's just waking up and making breakfast - settling in with a meaty book and great music, just reveling in his presence.

But most often, especially when the weather's good, it means going out into nature...or as Thoreau loved, getting into the woods.

So when I read Cass' well-timed and inspired comparison to Thoreau, I realized that's exactly what I've been missing and hungering for lately. I need to go into the woods and suck God out of the air. I need to twirl and sweat and run and lose myself and write and bathe in the gloriousness that Yahweh knitted together before he breathed life into these limbs.

I need to feel small. I need to make it simple again.