Looking Up

Psalm 23 is the first scripture I learned by heart. I was eight, and we lived in a mobile home in Casper, Wyoming. It was a six-month stay after a few months in South Dakota and before Wichita Falls, Texas. I got to church on a bus driven by a Baptist pastor. I play the words of Psalm 23 on repeat in my head when I can’t sleep. It’s what I recited when I was in the hospital in January, waiting to go in for wrist surgery to repair my broken bones. I’ve written the words out for a friend mourning a great loss. I whispered the words to my heart through still waters and dark valleys.

I’ve been reading K.J. Ramsey’s book, The Lord is My Courage, this week. From the first chapter’s title, “The Lord,” to the final chapter, “Forever,” it’s a slow walk through the psalm, word by word, phrase by phrase. It’s an artful blend of deep theological reflection, storytelling, and neuroscience, exploring faith and courage amidst fear and trauma. I’d planned to read a chapter a day, but I’m running through it instead of walking, knowing that this is a book I’ll be coming back to again and again.

I was tired Thursday morning. I’d spent a lot of Wednesday on a screen, both working on all things dissertation and scrolling more than is good for me. I hadn’t slept well.

The Psalm for the week was Psalm 121, and I read, I lift up my eyes to the hills,

Where does my help come from?

The Lord,

Maker of heaven and earth.

Ramsey writes, “Tunnel vision is real…when stress swirls around you, your vision constricts. Our eyes narrow to focus on the threat, just like prey in a large field zero in on the predator coming at them…The danger waves a red flag of alarm to our bodies, sending split-second instructions through our brainstem to put our bodily systems on ready-alert for attack.

…shifting your sight up and out can shift the state of your nervous system toward calm and hope.”

It’s not that working on the computer is a bad thing for me. Especially with this dissertation process, I am grateful for the access to information and the ease of typing. But the gentle words of the Psalmist, “I lift up my eyes to the hills,” and Ramsey’s perspective from neuroscience encouraged me to begin the day with a walk, to fill my eyes with the sights at Eagle Marsh.

I noticed things.

The plucky milkweed plant still standing after the mowing.

A family of ducks in the stream…

…that flew away as I walked by.

Deer getting their last nibbles of grass in before bedding down for the day.

And then I realized I had spent more time at the marsh than I planned and jogged and walked to my car and got ready for a day at Shipshewana with my mom and Anna.

Today will begin with a morning walk of the dog around the neighborhood before getting back to the screen and all the good work that is happening there. But I’ll be taking breaks to lift up my eyes, whether to my windows, out in the yard, or around the block. I’ll be taking in the yellow, oranges, and reds that are exploding on the trees. I’ll be feeling with my body my place in this world. And it will be good.