Rambling on about Rest, Faith, and Finding Peace in the Ordinary…

There is an Italian phrase, “dolce far niente,” which means “the sweetness of doing nothing.” I first came to know this phrase from watching “Eat, Pray, Love” with Julia Roberts. I love the movie, it made me think about life and the love of it. Today, as a weather alert covers Southeast Georgia and I find myself off from my part-time job, I am reminded of the gentle pleasure in simply being. Most of my day has passed in quiet preparation for the coming cold snap—just piddling around without a strict agenda. It’s surprising how the hours slip by when nothing urgent demands your attention, yet there is a unique sweetness in this unhurried time.

I’ve spent portions of the day gazing out at the world from my window, watching redbirds and sparrows flit to the feeders. I even found myself speaking to them, warning them about the cold front and encouraging them to keep warm. Their presence brought to my mind the passages from the Bible, where God promises to care for the birds of the air. In these moments, I am comforted by the thought that He watches over these small creatures, cares for them, and that He also watches over me. I know He is always there watching me, urging me on, and giving me strength. I am blessed, no doubt.

Here in my Swampy Bottom Acres, I feel wrapped in a sense of security and gratitude. My dogs lay about the room, sleeping, one dreaming maybe about squirrels… I am grateful for the warmth, shelter, and peace of this place that I believe is a blessing. Outside, the weather may be unpredictable, but my heart rests in the assurance that God is in control. The Bible tells us, both in Matthew and Luke, that not a single sparrow falls to the ground apart from the Father’s will and that we are more valuable to Him than many sparrows. These verses urge me to “not worry or be afraid,” anchoring me in faith rather than fear, my favorite place to be.

Today, I am practicing wisdom and the gift of free will, choosing to remain at home, to prepare thoughtfully, and to settle in with a spirit of calm. Rather than allowing anxiety to take root, I choose to embrace the coziness and contentment that come from being prepared and being present. There is, after all, a certain holiness in stillness and a quiet joy in letting the day unfold without hurry.

As the wind picks up and the evening falls, I’m reminded that rest is not wasted time. Sometimes, the greatest act of trust is to simply be still, to savor the sweetness of “dolce far niente,” and to remember that we are cared for—just as carefully as the sparrows outside my window.