Monday, June 9, 2014

Glittering Haven

I'm one of the most casual people I know. I hate formality. But I've also always had quite a bit of anxiety. Even when there's nothing pressing going on, I often feel rushed to get things done so I can go on to the next thing. Sometimes I miss out on truly enjoying myself because I can't relax my nerves. 

But today, I am abandoning such ways. Today is mine. 

Okay, not really. I drove a van-load of girls way up into the Sierras to Young Women Camp for church. But once I finished helping them get all their stuff to their cabins, I was free. 

There's a picnic area just a few miles down the road from there. I'm by myself now. I don't do much by myself. When I was younger, I was too codependent. Now I just don't have many opportunities and it feels awkward. But I wanted a place to stop and eat my lunch. 

There's a small river running through this spot. It's deliciously cold and soothingly bubbly. A small beach alongside it is covered with butterflies of various sizes and colors. My favorites are the tiny periwinkle-colored ones. The outside of their wings are moonlight-silver with little black specks, so when they land, they close their wings and are instantly camouflaged on the glittering sand. 

The water in front of me flows around some large boulders and a few fallen logs. These obstructions cause the murmur and bubbles and trickles that make the river so musical. 

The sun is high and the scent of the forest is thick in the warm air. If it's this hot way up here, it must be sweltering down in the dusty, smoggy valley. But here the sky is a deeper blue than the valley ever sees, and my lungs are grateful for the respite. It feels clean. 

I've sat along the bank long enough for my feet to dry and for the butterflies to forget that I'm here. There are people down in that valley who await my return, and I probably ought to get going. But this is my moment, and I will not miss out on it out of anxiousness. I will drink in the gentle sun and sweet forest breeze and song of the little river until I'm ready to leave here.  I will not miss this moment by worrying about the next one. Right now, I am here.