My husband’s across the country for work, and my kids were both home sick yesterday. Now I’m playing catch-up. I have a million things to do. I can’t see my kitchen counter or my table. There’s Kleenex decorating the couch and deadlines looming for all my jobs. My heart is racing and tears are hovering just under the surface.
And the dog needs to go potty. Really?!
So I open the door for our crazy Sheltie and bright sunshine pours in. The chirping of birds. Bright red, freshly planted flowers line the path to my door. And I sigh. I hear the whisper. Be Still.
A momentary thought of “The List” has my hands shaking, but I sit.
Last year, before I started this crazy blogging journey, I took a year off to learn what this be still thing looked like. I got to say no to pretty much every new commitment that came my way.
It was glorious.
Space to dream, write, be with my kids, be with me. In short, not be a crazy person. But this year. This year, I’ve endeavored to take this stillness into my normal, my chaos.
If I’m honest, stillness has slipped through my fingers like drops of water. I can’t seem to hold it for long. It shifts and slips. At the same time it’s too big—overflowing—it’s also too small—sneaking through. I’m frantic trying to catch it and stuff it back in, but in my haste, I’m losing more, and the crazy cycle continues until I’m sure I’m going to lose it, whatever it is. I just know my head’s gonna burst.
Until I sit.
I sit and watch the light shift through the trees shadows and light playing in the green leaves. I sit and listen to the wind breath and birds talk—a symphony of creation. I sit and “taste and see that it is good.”*
It’s when I sit for just a moment that I’m able to hold the stillness I need to keep going.
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Somehow it all changes and I’m not trying to hold on to the water, I can drink it and be refreshed. It’s then then that I realize the busyness, the Kleenex, the scattered school papers, the deadline, it’ll all be okay. It’ll be there when I get back, but maybe I’ll be able to see it differently.
So here’s to sitting. Just for a second and getting hold of the stillness.
I’d love to hear your stories of being saved by stillness or even how you find a little space in your crazy life.
I love to spend time outside – go for a walk alone or with the dog, sit out on my front porch and reading all take me to a calmer place. I can also be moved like you were by the beauty of the flowers and the warmth of the sun. Becoming more aware of what’s around us helps to keep us grounded. But prayer is a must for me and it makes all the difference in the world.
I agree. Prayer does make a world of difference. Somehow it reminds me that life isn’t all up to me.
My favorite verse has always been Psalm 46:10 Be Still and Know that I am God. I think because I cling to it, stillness is not my first action, worry always is. I need stillness more 🙂
That verse is stamped into a set of rings that wear almost every day as a reminder. Being still forces me to ignore my pride and not be the center of attention or action.
Janyre, I am getting better at catching moments of stillness in the current of life. I feel better though when I get up intentionally early and bask in His still presence. I love your honesty here because no matter how hard we writing moms try, we don’t always find ourselves still.
Thank you for your encouragement. Getting up early in summer is SO hard. I end up staying up way too late trying to soak in the quiet and get that one last thing done. By the time I get myself in bed, I don’t get enough rest to drag myself out of bed much before everyone else. It seems to be a cycle. Sometimes I’ve got it down and other times . . . not so much 🙂