One word to rule my thoughts. One word to govern my decisions. One pursuit to do the kind of heart work that only the Great Gardener can do. Grow peace.
For far too long, I’ve lived by striving. Worry grows deep, deep roots. Stress shoots up, and its fruit is anxiety, choking out life-giving joy.
So this summer I’m pulling weeds of worry. I’m watering my soul, and resting in the light of the Son. I’m praying for tendrils of trust to climb the dry, barren places of my heart and germinate new growth. New roots. New fruit.
I’m planting peace.