Stop. Just stop for a moment and take a long, deep breath. Do you smell it? The dewy grass crushed beneath your feet, the damp earth under your fingers as you lean back on your hands, the tangy willow bark as it arches over the gently burbling creek. The velvety petals of the prairie rose tickle your nose as you pull the branch down to sniff the sweet almost cinnamony fragrance of the delicate bloom. Breathe in. Savor it.
Welcome, fellow rose sniffer.
I’ve just invited you onto one of my favorite places on earth, a little spot by the creek on the farm where I grew up. The place I went to dream, to process experiences, to prepare for adventures, to pray, to find hope and to write.
“Hi. My name is Mina,”
(All echo, “Hi Mina”)
“…and I’m a rose sniffer. Or at least I want to be.”
OK, I know that’s not how it’s supposed to go, but this blog is a place where I (and I hope you too, dear reader) can learn to stop and smell the roses. Even if it’s just a sniff, because sometimes that’s all we can manage. But at least it’s a start.
It’s those rose scented moments– the earthy, everyday ones, the ethereal, sacred ones and even the old rotting ones– that make up a lifetime.
How often do you pause, quit the hustle and bustle and breathe deeply?
“Be still, and know that I am God!” ~Psalm 46:10a
Do you make a habit of reserving margin in your life to be still?
Do I?
I’ve learned over the last few months what an intentional choice this is– the rose sniffing, the being still– it has to be. For me this means scheduling a special time into my day, and then leaving some breathing space in the rest of the schedule. If I don’t intentionally choose to clear a margin in my life for pausing and being still, it won’t happen. Just ask any elder and they’ll tell you, life goes by in a flash. I don’t want to turn around and realize I’ve missed it. Do you?
So just pause for a second. Breathe deeply. Smell that? It’s the scent of adventure, perspective, hope.