Being Still

This morning I decided to try something a little different in my quiet time. I decided to fix a cup of coffee (well, instant cappuccino, but it works) and go outside and sit on the back porch. I decided to be quiet. Normally, I promptly open my Bible, read some passages recommended in our pastor's most recent sermon notes, and then I write. I've recently decided that I need to do some praying first. But yesterday, as I thought about this morning's quiet time, I thought about needing to be quiet. So this morning I sat and...just sat. Because of our dog's aging bladder, I was up fairly early. And it was quiet. Our pool's waterfall hadn't begun to run (it starts up at 7:00), the planes hadn't begun to fly overhead, and apparently, the creatures hadn't gotten going yet either, with the exception of a bird and a squirrel. For whatever reason, I got up and walked around, and suddenly I could hear something. It was a constant rustling, not too close, but not too far away. It was the cottonwood tree in the front yard of the house next door. While we're not too fond of the cottony stuff the tree produces (it coats the outside of our air unit and can clog up our pool's inner workings), I love to hear the leaves. Probably part of why I love it is because it's similar to an aspen. My parents spent their college years in Colorado and loved it, so the cottonwood's unique song reminds me of them.

Now, this tree is tall. And as I looked across the rooftops to enjoy the visual dance of the cottonwood's leaves, I began to notice the tops of the two large oak trees that stand guard at the front of our house. And I noticed the clouds in the great expanse of blue, blue sky. I happened to glance down at our back porch. It looked so small. I saw the beach towels and pool floats draped around the table and chairs. Those are the things I usually see. I rarely really see the trees, clouds, and sky.

I often think to myself that I should go for a swim in these mornings when I'm up before the rest of the family. And so today I did. I stretched my muscles, stiff from the night's sleep, and felt the water roll over my arms as I moved them through the water. And I enjoyed what God has made.

It's funny how the small things usually seem large, so large that they block our view of the truly large things. And it's funny how the noise of life drowns out the silence that we so desperately need in order to hear the things we really ought to hear.

Before long, the waterfall began to rush, the planes began gliding with their buzzing rumble above, and I made my way back to the porch. And soon after, my toddler girl appeared at the back door, awake and ready for some attention.

I never made it to the Bible reading that I had intended for today. But God spoke to me anyway and confirmed that I had made a good decision about how I spent my morning.

"Be still and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10a).