The lake stretches out before me, half yet dark shadows reflecting the hillside edging down to the water but hiding the colors the sun, now low in the sky, will reveal later, and the other half of the lake is still and as blue as the sky looking down on it.
It’s the stillness of the lake that draws me this morning, knowing now the multitude of large fish it conceals, the myriad of turtles that peek out at me, and the frogs who bellow “Human near,” and dive through the weeds into the dark water. Last night we watched bugs skate on the water’s surface, and those “big fish” leaping out skimming the surface for dinner, and leaving ever-widening circles testimony to their size and effort.
But this morning it is still. And it makes me think about how often we look still, when all kinds of worries, fears, hopes tenuously held, and anger or offences remembered lurk beneath that surface robbing us of the joy possible.
Sometimes it is the overdoing of good things that robs us of peace possible, and we don’t even see it happening. Sometimes it is the room we give away in our minds to ordinary distractions when we could be thinking on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, praiseworthy, or excellent. Philippians 4:5-9)
I was recently encouraged to try meditation or yoga by a friend who found it helpful. My first thought was “I’m not crazy about that, the undirected or directed meditation because the teachers of those exercises don’t share my values.”
However, sitting here in my tiny house at the lake, I am certainly in the right place to do some thoughtful thinking or meditating, and the place to start is here in these hills etched by the hand of God long before someone thought about damming one end of the lake creating this beautiful haven. If I spent more time thinking about watching God painting the butterflies as they came out of his workroom, thoughts that came to me last night as I watched another one flirt with me, then wisp away high in the sky vanishing into the light; if I did take time to consider the perfume God sprays into the breeze as He rains down their leaves to nourish the ground, perhaps I would have dealt with my frustration better.
When we moved here to experience life in a tiny house, I knew it would or could change me. I just never thought it would be to remind me of lessons learned and taught long ago. The simplicity of tiny house life can give you more time to think on good things, but it can also give you more time to waste on other things that just fill up the empty corners of our lives.
So, lesson for today, a tiny house does not solve problems that we carry around with us, but it might make space to deal with them.
PS. I’m grateful once again to enjoy the peace that comes from letting God take care of His side and not trying to do the whole thing myself.