Be Still, and Know

There was no post yesterday.  Not that anybody noticed, not that it matters, but it’s important to me.  Because whether anybody reads my drivel or not, it’s good for me to write.

But sometimes, it’s better to not.

And that’s hard for me.  I don’t like blank slates and quiet spaces – I’m uncomfortable with voids that should have something in them.  Don’t get me wrong;  the most fulfilling thing I do each day is designate uninterrupted silent time with my Lord.  Those moments of communion are sweet music in my soul, guiding my steps and speech the rest of the day.  I’ve noticed a huge difference in me since I made that daily appointment non-negotiable.  Not because it’s probably the only daylight hour when the house is actually quiet, but because I’m more discerning with what I say, and how.  I’m more aware of when God is speaking to me.

Yesterday there were no photo op moments or  words busting my seams to get out.  There were situations that made it difficult or impossible to speak.  Conversations moved in such a way that I was silenced, and the computer overheated and needing cleaning.   These things used to offend me.  Not anymore;  they are more probably a divine intervention to redirect my steps.  And nothing in my plan is so sacred that God cannot trump it.

A wise woman once told me that she planned her day, implemented her plan, and minimized distractions.  But interruptions were never a problem; they were an opportunity to minister.  She was referring to incoming phone calls and unexpected visitors.  I’ve had more roadblocks than unexpected callers.  They are a reminder to remember Who is really in control.

Last night, as I retired with nothing to show for the day, I heard, “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)   I heard so many translations of “Shhhh – it’s all right” as I looked back over the events of my Sunday.   He’s got it in hand, and I don’t have to fret.

So today was a blank slate ahead of me.  The dreaded white sheet of paper.  But I still had that calm over my being.  I went about my routine and quietly rode my day.  Good conversations and opportunities for wise parenting appeared out of nowhere, and I was pleased I’d had nothing on my calendar to override them.

Just a nice, quiet, regular day, with the freedom to find out if ragweed burns.

It does.

(Day 37/365)

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