At the cottage, you can’t worry about wet dresses and frizzy hair.
You can’t even worry about that strip of your leg that you apparently completely missed while shaving. (How does that always happen?)
You can’t feel worried about moving or new jobs. (You may think about these things, but not in an obsessive, anxious way.)
It is not resting to worry about these things.
At the cottage, you can sit with your toes just-so in the waves and notice how the water brings plain old ordinary rocks to life and think about Jesus and Living Water.
At the cottage, you can go down to the beach early in the morning and feel envious of the nearly seamless transition from the rocks to the water. I handle transition a little bit more… choppily. But then again, water usually does too.
At the cottage, you can watch the blue jays, chipmunks, squirrels, and bunnies.
And if you happen to get sick, and spend the better part of three of your precious cottage days on the couch, well- I guess that’s just the way it is that year, and at least you have such a lovely family who take your turns doing dishes and go to Walmart to buy you apples and billions of probiotics and write you nice notes and draw you wonderful pictures.
Not all of life is brilliantly beautiful, and that’s okay. Calm and ordinary can be beautiful too.