Rest

by Pam Coan on October 26, 2026

(Pam wrote this poem at our Creatives Retreat this past weekend.)

Rest

What does that mean?

Am I tired

Am I sleepy

Am I bored

Am I lonely

Where does my rest come from?

Of course it’s you, Jesus!

As I sit in the beauty of fall,

I see colors –

reds, yellows, oranges,

but also, browns;

I didn’t realize there are so many shades of brown.

I feel the brightness of the sun

As its warmth encloses me like a hug.

There is a certain smell that is just for fall.

There are no words, but it's a feeling that encompasses me

when I take the time to intentionally breathe.

Big inhales, slow exhales.

The sound I hear of a running river

interrupted by an airplane flying over.

The wind blowing gently

rustling the leaves of the many trees.

So many different trees –

tall, crooked hanging branches

and leaves all unique to the species.

You remind me to look at the texture of the bark;

how unique each tree is.

It brings me full circle back to You;

You are Creation.

In a blink of an eye

You spoke the seasons into being;

to bring joy and yes...

Rest.