Yesterday I took advantage of the beautiful weather and walked around one of the Twin Cities many lakes. All the paths were crawling with people overjoyed to be outside their homes at last. Smiling people and equally happy dogs bounced along the walking paths. Strollers carrying joyful babies moved swiftly past runners and those roller blading as they soaked up sunshine and fresh air. Long stored bicycles now sported helmeted riders using muscles they had forgotten they had. Each person seemed to be exercising the kind of freedom that is one of the true gifts of spring.

Nearing the end of my walk, I observed a biker taking over one of the many park benches that dot the lakeside. Sitting down, he called out to another biker still making their way along the path. ” Come, rest here.” he said. I looked to see the reaction of the receiver of these words. I wasn’t close enough to really see but it didn’t really make a difference. I had already heard the invitation and that was enough.

“Come, rest here.” The words stuck in my mind. I thought of all the people who would welcome the gift of these three, little words. Come. Rest. Here. Right here. I thought of the harried parent trying to juggle the myriad details of any given day. And the weary caregivers I know, dishing out food, compassion, patience, and love. I thought of the teachers and the restaurant workers and all the laborers who work long hours, often underpaid and under appreciated. My memory was flooded with the many hospital workers I have occasion to see in action as I visit people who are ill or have had surgery. So many who would welcome this simple, calming invitation.

And then I thought of all the places, besides the park bench, that beckon us to “Come, rest here.” All over this state docks will soon be moved into place and will take up their work of providing a resting place for those waiting to be healed by the glassy, lapping water of being at ‘the lake’. The front porch of my childhood, its glider, rocking chairs and swing that are always present to create the slow, comforting motion we knew as infants. Back and forth, back and forth. Easy chairs and waiting room couches call out, “come, rest here.” Laps and outstretched arms offer children and loved ones that place of solace……come, rest.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus goes about claiming a special relationship with God by saying to those gathered around him: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” What amazing and comforting words. And aren’t they ones we have all, at one point or another, longed to hear?

For those of you who are weary and long for rest, may you have someone call out to you, like the biker on the bench, “Come, rest here.” May you find an invitation, even if it comes from your own lips, to sit, to be in the gift that is the present moment. And may you find rest there.

Blessed be.