On Comfort

Thunder rumbling across the mountains, threatening, but I don’t care, I’ve always loved that sound and the smell of rain in the air. Comfort.

Sun blazing on my face, glasses piled on my head. I don’t need them. I can see just fine as I read.

Listening to laughter and play nearby. Curled up, reading, writing, absorbing enjoying the fresh air. Can’t do this at home. Comfort.

Wondering if I’m any good at writing? Do I tell a good story? Comparing myself to those who I love to read. Do I reach anyone? Am I good enough that my children will be proud of me? Do I do right by them? Should I settle for good enough? I don’t want to. I want to be better. Discomfort.

Comfort. I think of this. Do I deserve it? I don’t know if my parents have ever felt it. They work so hard; all the time. Do they ever rest? I feel guilty then. Thinking I don’t work hard enough. I take my comfort wherever I can. Should I? I don’t work as hard as they do… Discomfort.

But those places of comfort… I crave them. I need them. I can give more when I have rested, I know this. Yet, sometimes, that guilt hangs over me.

Why am I thinking of this now? Because I am here, in this space, amongst these mountains that I love so much. A place that surrounds me like a warm quilt, created by the One. The One that feels so close when I am here, in His space.

I did not earn my place here. I did not ‘pay’ for it-it was a gift that I worry I do not deserve. Do I? The guilt that I have not made the right financial choices to be able to pay for this myself. That someone else had to pay for my family’s holiday; for my comfort. Is it fair? Sometimes, I think not.

Should comfort be earned? Is there a price that one has to pay? Who am I to deserve it? Why me? Why not someone better than me?

Clouds so close! I can almost reach out and touch them from where I sit! Trees-so many shades of green. There! Another rumble!

Is he speaking to me? Is he saying “Stop analyzing everything! Listen! See! You are here right now! It doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t matter that it is not someone else! It IS you! This is for YOU! Those children are yours! You love them as I love you. That is all there is! You need nothing else!”

He comes to me and kisses my neck. I love that. My little man wanders out to where I sit and touches my shoulder, “You’re spending time out here?” I nod. He smiles and gently rubs the shoulder and wanders off again. She comes out and says, “Are you blogging? It sure is a beautiful evening.” She smiles and disappears also.

I realize that He speaks to me indeed. In their smiles. In his kisses. In the beautiful words written by a favorite author. In the rumble of thunder. In a song on the radio on the way to work. In a rainy day playing a new game. In a quiet conversation with an old friend. In a warm quilt and candlelit night. In so many ways…comfort.

4 thoughts on “On Comfort

  1. Touching and honest post, my two favorite things about your writing. Enjoy your rest, that you so deserve…

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