The Gift of the Breath

“I sit outside on our property, surrounded by bright, green trees so alive with the newness of Spring, a cloudy, blue sky overhead, birds chirping all around. The ground is wet from rain… I think I just wiped a slug off of my lawn chair…”

A glimpse into my journal this morning.

I go on to write:

“My seven-month old is inside in her crib, napping. Oh, how glorious naps are these days! 

My husband is in the house. Getting ready for a long day of work. He gives me 15 minutes to go outside and breathe. What a gift this is, one that I am almost reluctant to take because of everything that I could do with this time. Why would I go outside and do “nothing” when I could get so many things done around the house?

I sit here, and I breathe, even while there are dishes in the sink, piled way high.

I breathe, despite clothes being scattered all throughout the house alongside diapers, baby toys, pump, parts, spit-up rags, and dirty dogs needing a bath.

I breathe even while there are emails in my inbox to respond to, work projects that need closure, texts and calls to be returned.

I breathe, here, under these beautiful green trees, while ants crawl up my leg, and bugs swarm around my face. I breathe, imagining God’s spirit riding the waves of my breath. I picture his spirit as air, sustaining every part of me, moment by moment.

How easy it is to get, swept up and thinking, doing, planning, and problem-solving, that we miss out on the gift of the breath. The breath that holds Spirit’s presence, filling us with the Father’s peace.

I breathe in again remembering His words: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.”

I breathe, noticing the steady rhythm of my body as it takes in air, and lets it go, without me having to tell it what to do. Our bodies are so wise in this way.

I begin to match my breath with the psalms, breathing in: “Be still and know,” and breathing out: “That I am God…” 

Breathing in again: ”How precious is…” breathing out: “your steadfast love oh God….” 

Our bodies depend on the breath to live, just as our souls depend on the Father’s love to flourish. Maybe that’s why He gives us breath — to remind us, that we, as humans, are dependent on something, someone, outside of ourselves for life. We cannot in our own power sustain ourselves without air or the capacity to breathe. When we stop breathing, we stop living.

In a similar way, our souls suffocate under the weight, tragedy, and busyness of our world when left unattended. They get ripped apart, torn in two. When we do not know the Father’s love or see His beauty and goodness, we wilt like seedlings stretching for light in a dimly lit room.

They stretch and stretch, searching for that which will sustain, until they fall over in despair when light is not found.

When we don’t have the Light, we wilt too.

My breath centers me back into this moment I am in. Time slows down, just enough.

As I envision my breath as Spirit, I am reminded of the closeness of God. He feels so distant at times, but when I imagine my breath as being filled with Spirit, He feels so close. A part of me, even.

I breathe, here, through places in my body that ache and feel tired and weak.

I breathe through heavy feelings and nagging thoughts. My breath, his Spirit, touches and holds each version of “not good enough” that’s been running through my mind lately.

I breathe through worries, fears, insecurities, and doubts.

I breathe, remembering that we are one. When Spirit is alive in me, I am more than enough. He reminds me that I bear the image of Christ. There is strength and freedom here.

Here, I rest.

Thank you, Father, for the gift of the breath.