My wheelhouse

Wheelhouse: (n) an area of knowledge and/or particular interest and/or familiarity; a phrase commonly used by, and introduced to me by, Casey Doyle and Steph Dunn

             
          I was so in my wheelhouse yesterday. Those of you that stepped foot outside/ watched the news/ checked the weather/ got on Facebook or Twitter are aware that the weather was GORGEOUS. Sunny. 75. Slight breeze in the air. Perfection. Outside has always been my favorite place to be. Always. My dad tells a story of me as a baby when my grandpa was holding me outside and I fell asleep. So he tried to take me inside but as soon as he would step foot in the door I would cry. So that day I napped in his arms outside. Love it. Anyways, I am not one to pass up an opportunity to spend some great time outside. And yesterday I was in serious need of rest. Not just the kind of rest you need when you’re sleepy. Just rest. So I skipped my afternoon class and spent some much needed time doing some of my favorite things. Now I know what you’re all thinking. “Oh my gosh Rachel we already knew you were a total bad a**, but skipping a seemingly meaningless intro to psych class that you’re allowed to miss 3 times and where you had an exam Tuesday that consisted of nothing but 31 multiple choice questions that you could have answered without cracking open the book? Dang girl, get on with ya bad self!”

I’d like to see anyone or anything even try to come between me and a beautiful day.

                So in the afternoon I went for a run down the back roads. I love running on them. There’s beautiful farmland on both sides with horses, and cows, and chickens, and huge open fields that lead off to the horizon. My wheelhouse. You can’t beat it.

*Disclaimer*

I am going to try my HARDEST not to use grossly sugary-sweet language to describe everything I saw. I do not want to be like Bob Ross.

Remember him? “Just a happy little tree. And this pretty little mountain with these pretty little flowers.” Barf.

                Anyway, so after the back roads I ran on this trail to a park near school. It was great. Until I was running back out of the park and my mom called me. So I stopped and walked and chatted when BAM, a whole flock?, herd?, tribe?, A WHOLE MESS OF DEER jumped out of the woods and ran literally a foot in front of me. Like I could have touched them. I started screaming “OH CRAP! OH CRAP!” and dove to the ground while my mom is yelling from the other end of the line “WHAT?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!” It’s actually kind of funny. But I did get a little scraped up.

Freakin’ deer

                After I finished my run, I cooled down by walking through the neighborhoods by school. They’re filled with old Victorian houses painted pastel colors that I LOVE. I walked and stopped to chat with the old people that were gardening or sitting on their porches in their rocking chairs, and moms outside with their babies. It was wonderful. Something you should know about Southern people: we love “goin’ visitin.’” I remember being little and going to my grandma’s house and my sister and I would always ask to “go visitin’” and make the rounds to neighbors and family member’s houses to chat and laugh. So I love when people wave or stop me to chat and be personable. Even if we don’t know each other. And the old Southern people in these neighborhoods LOVE to chat. My wheelhouse. It was a wonderful afternoon resting and being in nature, in God’s creation. And to run and remember what it felt like to play as a child. I’ve always loved to play. In the summers I can remember going to our Country House and playing so hard all day that I would literally fall asleep in the grass. I would wake up to my mom, grandma, and aunt giving me a bath scrubbing me within an inch of my life to remove the layer of dirt, sweat, blood, and spit that accumulated from a day of good, hard playing. I loved it. And now I love being outside because I love being surrounded by things He made with his own hands. No man could make a blade of grass, or a tall tree, or a bird drifting on a breeze. I let my soul rest and feel at home.

                Last night after Thursday night Bible study, I was thinking a lot about how thankful I was for yesterday. How thankful I am that God blesses us even though we don’t deserve it. That He knows the depths of our hearts and knows what we need before even we do. And that in it all, He continues to point me back to Him. That yesterday was so beautiful, and I’m so thankful and praise Him for it. But as I sat in my room and listened to “Heaven Song” by Phil Wickham, I thought about the beauty of yesterday from an eternal perspective. I was reminded that, even though this Earth we have been given is so beautiful and we are so blessed to have another day to enjoy it and breathe the air, that what my soul aches for is what awaits me in Heaven. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE LIFE! I’m thankful for each day that I get to walk through this world feeling joy, loving and being loved, learning about Him and growing in Him. But I also know what awaits me: a home. Because no matter how beautiful this world is, it is still broken. So while I’m here, the Lord will hold my hand and walk through valleys. And He’ll stand beside me on the mountaintop. Through it all, He will never leave. He’s the only thing we can be truly sure of. He is the only place we find security. And true shelter is found under His wing. And while I am daily amazed of the beauty of His Creation, I can’t even imagine how beautiful Heaven will be. Standing in the light of His glory and eternally worshipping Him. Looking Him in the eyes and seeing more beauty than the most magnificent of sunsets. Because what I see is truth. And a love that died for me. I will be home. In a home that is forever. A home that is more beautiful than I can ever imagine. A home with the Savior that has, and is constantly redeeming my soul. My soul craves Him. And my heart loves Him.

I hear Your voice and I catch my breath

“Well done my child, enter in and rest”

Tears of joy roll down my cheek

It’s beautiful beyond my wildest dreams

I want to run on greener pastures

I want to dance on higher hills

I want to drink from sweeter waters in the misty morning chill

And my soul is getting restless for the place where I belong

I can’t wait to join the angels and sing my Heaven song

Some pics I took of some happy little trees and pretty little flowers.