I Need Me Some Therapy

Now, before you all heartily agree with that statement…

Let’s talk cows.  Seriously.  Let’s do.  It’s a huge topic.  

But first.  A little history.

Prior to making the big urban to rural shift almost 20 years ago, I hate to admit it, but…truth be told, I had never actually come face to face with a cow.  In fact, I really hadn’t even given them much thought before.

Well, except for when we played the car game on road trips as a kid.  You remember, right?  It’s where you count the cows on your side of the road in order to win.  Do you all know what I’m talking about?  

Oh.  Gosh.  That’s right.  Maybe you don’t.  I forgot.  I’m (ahem) older.  Hey!  Let’s not bring that up again, OK????

All right.  Now that we have some ground rules.

Where was I?  Oh yay.  We were talkin’ cows.  

So, even though I grew up in a rural area, surrounded by dairy farms, somehow, I never really paid attention to cows.  I hadn’t given them more than a passing glance.  I totally took them for granted.  

There I said it.  I confess.  That was difficult to put into words.

Nope, I never paid a lick of attention.  Well, not until I was…older.  (Stop it).  And life became.  Complicated.  And draining.  And painful.  And disappointing.  And stressful. 

But, little did I realize all the crazy was, in actuality, preparing me to someday – at just the right moment – not only notice, but deeply appreciate cows.

It all happened shortly after Paul and I decided to purchase a small get-away home in the NC mountains, years ago.  

Now, just to paint the picture…

When we first started looking for the perfect second home, our realtor made the horrible mistake of traipsing us through used-to-be-beautiful-meadows-but-now-fully-developed-subdivisions outside a funky NC mountain college town.

Time out!  We already lived in a subdivision.  Nothing wrong with subdivisions, but…we most definitely weren’t interested in driving 3 1/2 hours several times a month to spend a weekend in yet another, subdivision!  

Soooooo….after a little heart-to-heart…tete-a-tete…chatty-chat with our realtor, we began exploring small, off-the-beaten-path, mountain homes.  Yaaaaaaaaaay.  Now, that’s what we nature-lovers were interested in.

But.  Whoa. The search became an adventure, in and of itself.  Oh my.

I can’t remember all the numerous properties we explored – probably, a good thing – but one choice piece of property left an indelible impression.

It was a gorgeous mountain summer afternoon as we all set out.  Our hopes were riding high on finding our cozy little mountain home.  We were escorted deep into the mountains to check out the property.

Well, again.  I don’t remember all the details. What I always will remember, however, was the journey.  We travelled on what felt like a goat-trail; up mountain pathways, and across beautiful meadows into the deep, dark unknown forest. 

(Theme song to Deliverance softly playing in the background.  Now, truth be told.  I’ve never actually seen the movie.  But I’ve heard enough.  To get the picture).  

Basically, it was a 4-wheel drive passageway.  That should have been our first clue.

But it wasn’t.

Well, we most definitely didn’t hear traffic noise.  And, after all, that was very important to us.

When we finally arrived, my eyes fell upon an an A-frame house perched on the hillside, staring back at us.  A-frame.  Hmmm…not exactly on my radar, but, hey!  I was trying to be open-minded about it all.  And see it as an adventure.  

And be open-minded about it all.  

Did I already say that?

Anyways.  The view was beautiful.  Yep.  Very pretty.  Even gorgeous.  

And, not a car in sight.  That’s what we wanted, right?

But the house.  Oh my.  We knocked on the door and no one answered.  

OK.  Maybe they were busy, and forgot we were coming.  Maybe they had a quick errand to run.  

Ah, nope.  No such thing as a quick errand from that location.  Soooooooo, we peered into the windows and to our surprise.  Well, maybe dismay is a better word.  

OK.  To our shock.

Let’s see.  How to put this respectfully.  Well, let’s just say, there was soooooo much um, decor…accessories…stuff…OK, junk…inside the house, we couldn’t, and actually weren’t about to…didn’t want to…had zero interest in…were a bit afraid to…get any closer. 

Yikes!  Get us out of here, pah-leeeeeze.  And fast, if you don’t mind.

I was never so relieved as I was when we were safely off that mountain.  Who knows what activities went on inside that little ah – bungalow – on a regular basis.

Even the realtor was relieved.  That tells you everything you need to know.

All righty then.  So let’s redefine our search.  Somewhere between used-to-be-beautiful-meadows-now-fully-developed-subdivisions, and, be-sure-to-pack-some-heat-before-you-venture-out was what we had in mind.

I don’t know.  Maybe we were being a bit too frugal.  Maybe we seriously needed to increase our price range just a tad.

Anyways.  Our quest continued over several weekends, and eventually stretched into a few months.  Honestly.  It all began to feel like a total bust.  Futile.  A waste of precious time.  And energy.   

Maybe we really didn’t need to get away from our well-manicured suburban subdivision as much as we thought.  

Then one sunny Saturday afternoon we stumbled upon an interesting piece of property.  At the end of a quiet, dirt road.  Surrounded by forest.  And a few pastures.  And horses. 

This definitely had some potential.

Well.  Long story, long…

This quaint, but quirky little home and beautiful property worked for us.  So we bought it.  And furnished it.  And decorated it.  And enjoyed it.  A bunch.

Soon, weekend mountain get-away trips to our respite at the end of the dirt road were routine.

And you know what?  I just loved that dirt road.  And guess what else?  It was lined with trees.  And pastures.  And yep, you guessed it.  

Cows.  Lots of cows.  And I totally bonded with the cows.  

There was something about their faces.  And their gentle eyes.  And their meandering ways.  And even their stubby little tails.   But, on top of all that, there was just something about watching them graze. 

Calmly.  Serenely.  Systematically.  Rhythmically.

It all spoke, “Chill out, city people.  You’re in the country now.  And you really don’t need to be so, um, uptight.   So driven.  Soooooo anxious.  So perfect.  And all the rest.  Just put it all on pause for a minute.  Focus.  Watch us eat grass.  Blade by blade.  Munch by munch.  You’ll catch on before long.  Hopefully.”  

And guess what?  They were right.  We did catch on!  

Some of my friends know where I’m going here.  I’ve affectionately called this phenomenon, Cow Therapy, because – in my humble opinion – it’s simply impossible to remain stressed out while watching a cow eat grass.  

Well, I guess unless you’re the one responsible for the cows.  But, apart from that. 

Seriously.  Just try it sometime.  You’ll see.  

Hopefully.

I soon learned cow therapy was merely a stepping stone, highlighting my need for more.  My need to unwind and refuel.  To gain perspective.  To be alone for a second.  To reboot. To breathe.  To get some B-SAK time.  

Oh, I forgot.  We haven’t talked about B-SAK time before. 

B-SAK time is similar to cow therapy.  Only different.  It’s deeper.  And fuller.  And more consuming.  And more healing.  And it comes from one of my favorite passages.  

It may be one of yours as well.  It’s Psalm 46:10.  And it very simply, very calmly, very quietly, very powerfully says, 

 

“Be still and know that I am God.  

I will be exalted among the nations.  I will be exalted in the earth.”

 

B-SAK.  Be Still And Know…all the rest.  Who He is.  His greatness.  His authority.  Over all.  The reality that He’s got it covered.  Politically.  Nationally.  Globally.  Eternally.  

Personally.  Everything on your plate and mine.  All we’re concerned about.  All we feel responsible for.

Other translations put it this way, “Cease striving and know that I am God.”

Oh, I like that.  In fact I love that.  

We have the Divine opportunity to relax.  On our insides.  To let go.  To rest.  To surrender to His loving, way-more-than-adequate care.

To be still and know.  Perceive.  Grasp.  Completely get it…to our very core…to the depths of our being.   

To be still and loosen our grips.  To be still and remember Who is, and who is not, in control.  Of our nation.  And all nations.  Of the entire world.  Of the whole Universe.  

And sometimes – even more importantly – of all the things in our daily lives causing us to worry and be anxious.  The things that wake us up in the middle of the night.  And won’t let us go.  

He’s inviting us to lay down the stress and strain.  The self-sufficiency and grappling.  The insecurities and fears.   And all the rest.

Now, He’s not implying passivity here.  Oh no.  Far from it.  We clearly have a very significant role to play.  

But.  Once we’ve surrendered our lives before Him, the overall responsibility is on Him. Not us.

This is no small thing.  It’s huge.  It’s powerful.  It’s transformative.

We have the tremendous privilege of entrusting ourselves to His loving care.  To lay it all down.  To let go of any and all hints of tenseness…of striving…of angst…of worry.  And all the rest.

He delights in caring for us.  In being our Good Shepherd.  But, we have to invite Him.  He doesn’t demand it.  It’s not automatic.

However, when we acknowledge His Supremacy.  When we bend the knee in worship to His Sovereignty.

Man, oh man.

What a relief.  What joy.  What peace.  What freedom.  What release.  What hope.

I can look to, learn from, rest in, draw close to Jesus, the Good Shepherd of my soul.  He invites me to cast my care on Him.  Wow.  It’s ultimately not weighing heavily on me.  It’s ultimately not up to me.  

I get to give it to Him as I follow through with His agenda and leading  for my life.

This blog – I mean place – is not up to me.  It’s up to Him, flowing through me.  

My future is not up to me.  It’s ultimately in His Hands.  I have the privilege of learning to listen for His Voice and to yield to His promptings – His Divine nudges – leading me step by step into the fulness of His plans and purposes for my life.

Cease striving and know that He is God.  

Sounds like a plan.  A very good plan.  One that steers me away from goat trails and less than desirable mountain shacks.  One that leads me along paths of peace and rest and joy, into the fulness of His Heart for me.  

Even in the midst of struggles and unknowns and perplexities.  Even in the midst of hurts and heartaches.  Even in the midst of disappointments and betrayals.  Even in the midst of unexpected diagnoses and medical journeys.   

Peace.  Like a river.  For our insides. 

Rest.  Like a spa day.  Only better.

Refreshment.  Like a breath of fresh air on a summer’s day.  Only deeper.

Do you know it?  Do you know Him?  Have you discovered the path into His Presence…into His Heart…into the depths of His Love and compassion?  For you personally and for those you care about?

The Divine Invitation is extended.  Right now.  In this very moment and throughout every moment ahead.  He invites us all to be still and know.  To fully experience the reality of His compassion and care towards each of us.  Personally.  To surrender.  Our angst.  Our control.  Our over-inflated egos.  Our tenseness.  Our fears.

And rest.  In Him.  The Lover of our Soul.

Hmmm….I didn’t sleep well last night.  I think I need to B-SAK all of that.  Right now.  And every day ahead.  ’Til my last breath.

And if you’re like me, and sometimes forget.  Or have trouble entering in.  Well, my best advice is to find a cow.  And watch it munch.  It’s therapeutic.

Trust me.  It works!

Wow.  I got a little long-winded this time.  But I just couldn’t resist telling you about the goat path and the A-frame and all the rest.

I thought it was important.  Maybe not.

Anyways.  I had better let you all go.

See you next time!

And remember, as my wise friend used to say, “The best is always yet to come.”

Love you all.

PS.  I’m so sorry, Mrs Ordiway.  I still remember how to diagram sentences, though.

At least I think I do…