I have had elementary school field days there. I have had birthday parties, picnics, and church youth events there. I have played with my dogs there. I have walked and jogged there. I have adventured through the back trails and even got ticks on my head as a little girl with long hair there; definitely only needed to be experienced once in a life time. I have played with my nephews there. I have shared the Gospel and prayed with someone there. I have lost my treasured cross necklace from Uganda there. I have taken my lunch break there many, many times and read my Bible there. I have taken pictures there and watched the squirrels run around there.
Today, I swung.
All of these things flashed in my head as I went up and down, up and down. The park I was at sure has served a lot of purposes through out the years. All the way from being a toddler when my mom would take my siblings and me on perfect weather days so we could get all of our energy out to days like today as an adult, when I simply needed to swing. Driving home from an adoption celebration today, with all the emotions that are involved, I found myself pulling into the park where I’ve pulled into many times before. I wanted to swing. I tried to think back to the last time I had and couldn’t remember. That bothered me.
Simply walking up to the swings brought joy to me. Hearing the sounds of little kids running around and laughing brought me joy, looking to my left and seeing a father running around with his daughter brought me joy, and looking to my right and seeing children climb the same random metal object that I use to at their age brought me joy. The simplicity of it all was overwhelming and I wanted to swim in it. I sat down in the swing and was quickly reminded how much more comfortable the swings were as a child with a child-like body. Nevertheless, I began. Swing my legs forward, swing my legs back. It was comforting—the rhythm of my legs swinging, the creaking of the metal chains with the same tune each and every time, and the way my hair would fly forward and then back.
I don’t think I realized how still the trees were before. They were solid, secure, and bold. Then I realized how everything seemed so still—but me. Purposeless? Never. He speaks to me in such neat ways. I could hear him saying, “I love you, child. Rest in Me.” As I’ve heard so many times before when I cry out to him, I heard again, “Wait. Be Still. I have great things planned for you.”
I closed my eyes. The air smelled so sweet and fresh. Hair forward, hair back. Feet forward, feet back. I was drawn back to college. There was a park a few blocks down from where I lived. It was at Chicago and 27th-ish. I loved that park. I used to go there frequently, usually by myself. I would go to swing. The best times were right before it got dark because hardly anyone would be there. I would swing and sing as loud as I wanted until my little heart was content. Man, I miss those days. I had many conversations with the Lord at that park while swinging. What a blessing that little park was to me.
I snapped back to now and wondered how many times I’ve missed my times to swing. Often. I’m always busy. Always. If I’m not busy, I’m often distracted by things that are pointless for what actually matters. I didn’t have to even say it out loud, He knew my heart—I was sorry, asking for forgiveness again. Beautiful grace, mercy, and forgiveness were waiting for me.
My swinging was over and my heart was lighter.
Today was a good day for a swing.
