Be Still – Everything Else Will Keep
Jul 8th, 2012 | By Maryleigh | Category: Women of Faith Blogs
It was the thinking, the ideas needing to be expressed – from his eyes, to his mouth to his fingertips to his feet – and not knowing how to still it all.
“Your fingers need to go to sleep, too,” I’d say, sitting with him, – and he’d still his fingers. One by one, he’d try to still thoughts and expression – kind of like turning the house lights off one-by-one. He wasn’t even 5 years old.
Learning how to still it all isn’t just a 5-year-old thing .
I know how he feels. Except it’s not always a stilling for sleepy-time things – a stilling of fingers and toes.
My self-perception is affected by thoughts that need stilling. To-do list thoughts, How-to, How-to-achieve-things-like-dreams thoughts, creeping-in-sly-fearful thoughts, less-than-my-better-self thoughts.
When I think of God, His plans for my life – I think of action, doing, achieving, always feeling behind the plan instead of ahead of the plan – never just where I need to be in the unfolding of the plan.
Motion – never stopping, never stilling – for fear I’ll end up to far behind to catch up.
All types of motion are required for real, living relationship with God.
Sometimes with God, I am to just stand, in a withstand way.
Sometimes, He carries me.
Sometimes, I am to read love letters He left outside my door, in a nature walk, in the journey to a waterfall, in a thunder storm.
Sometimes, we walk, heads bent together, arms linked
Other times, it has been like sitting on a porch swing, quiet, no talking, nothing happening but just being together – being still together.
That was this week.
Being still was a tough lesson for me last week. For a time, it left me confused, empty, insecure, sadly forlorn.
Instead of me soothing my children to still themselves, He kept admonishing me to still myself.
He sat with me on a porch, in the mountains, during a storm that blew dust particles from trees into my face before spraying me with a misty coolness.
I wanted to read a love letter, to find a message from Him, but He just said, “Be still. Just be with me. You can read the letter later. It will keep.”
Sitting in a chair, casting and reeling because I couldn’t do much else, in a little pond in a little cabin where cleaning and cooking were off-limits for my surgery recovery, I tried to build a post out of it all.
“Be still. Just be with me.Everything else will keep,“ He said.
I couldn’t swim in the pond, couldn’t go rowing in the boat because of my stitches, so I watched my boys, took pictures and sat on the sidelines. I kept trying to find meaning for a message
But He just said, “Be still. Just be with Me. Everything else will keep.”
Sometimes I need to live out the “being” – let everything unfold – let it swirl down inside and “be” a part of it, even if it is just sitting.
Sometimes just to be with Him, recognize that He is sitting with me, beside me – that He wants to have relationship like that – like on a porch swing late in the afternoon when no words are needed, and we just watch together, just be still together.
I don’t think He created Adam and Eve for Big thoughts, Big tasks, Big achievements. Sometimes He calls us to those – the Father, also wants to walk with us in the cool of the day and spend time with us (Genesis 3:8).
“Be Still,” He says – fingers, toes, and, yes, my mind.
“And Know that I am God”(Psalm 46:10)
He doesn’t want us to just know He is God – He wants us to know Him – even in the stillness of just being.
When He wants us to be still, everything else will keep.
Still joining Ann Voskap at A Holy Experience learning how to see the gifts God leaves me daily – it has been like a training camp this counting to 1,000 gifts – filled with blessing!
- Prayers from friends in the blogahood and the neighborhood.
- No pain
- the ability to stretch
- little guys who still give hugs
- the ability to recuperate without pressure
- pink, yellow and orange zinnias with bergamot blossoms in Mason Jars
- uninterrupted time with my husband
- waking my little guys up at the cabin to go fishing, counting ribs to get their muscles moving, their voices woke up, and shrieks of laughter filling my ears
- a blue gill I caught with the wrong bait and a bobbin – it matched my glasses. We released it
- my husband putting the worm on my hook – for some reason, it was easier a long, long time ago when squirmy wasn’t as yucky
- watching the boys play in the pond, one in an inner-tube, one on noodles, another rowing
- knowing that sometimes the figurative dragging to an experience is a moms job – knowing what the result can be when they get there – and see it all come about
- peace that I did not have to be doing, achieving or even being productive as I recovered
- air-conditioning and plenty of hose water for my tomatoes, zucchini, squash and zinnias
- the blessing of healing
- Sons who find our home comforting, a place to replenish, refresh
- Sharing Sunday dinner, even if it is leftovers
- Answered prayers unfurling
- Evening walks with my husband, water, finding watermelons growing, red tomatoes, a rain tree flourishing
Originally posted on Blue Cotton Memory.