“Come to me all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
So as most of you reading this have read my other posts and you well know, most of the time when I post these I have a pretty direct topic and a plan of what I’m going to write about. This time isn’t exactly like that. As opposed to describing a situation or recount a story per se, this post is to make you think and maybe even feel a little something.
Although I can’t see you while you read this so we’re going to have to go off the honor system here, take 20 seconds to close your eyes and imagine the single place in the world where you have felt the strongest sense of peace. Remember the sounds, the smells, what you could feel with your hands, the temperature of the place, try to place yourself back in that one moment.
Maybe this little exercise took you to the beach while you watched dolphins emerge from the water and playfully jump around just offshore. Maybe it took you to the mountains where you sat on a wooden deck and listened to the birds wake up with the sun to start their day. Maybe it even took you to the side of a hospital bed where you’ve been praying even after you ran out of words but the Father took your hands in His and overwhelmed you with his peace and love.
There is no right or wrong answer to where you find peace, but for me it’s different than most people. Over the course of my 20 years on this Earth, there have been two places where I feel a true sense of peace, and if you know me at all you probably know where they are.
The first place is 60 feet 6 inches away from home plate, 10 inches off the ground, next to a two foot long strip of rubber. When I was on the pitcher’s mound, regardless of how stressful the situation, I was in control. Now of course I’m human and I feel pressure and stress just like anyone else, especially trying to get the last three outs in a state championship game. However, when on the mound, I always found and extraordinary sense of peace. I loved the fact that what I did on the mound every pitch dictated the rest of the game.
The next place, as I’ve written about many times already, is in the woods. My favorite place on the planet is a shooting house in the middle of my family’s farm. The large wooden shooting house splits the middle of two food plots with a foothill of the Appalachian mountains behind me, and a deep river bottom cut by the Paint Rock River in front of me, surrounded by fields of native grasses as far as the eye can see. The mountain and river bottom are covered in thick hardwoods and a small cut corn field sits to the far left corner of the food plot. Watching deer frolic and roam the field and woods and seeing the sun rise over the trees or set behind the mountain and paint the sky with every color on an artist’s pallet will never get old to me. This is where I find peace because I know the artist. This is where I find peace because I know that the artist loves and cares for me. And He cares for you as well.