I sit on the rock.
I gaze out over this beautiful farm.
I gaze out over this beautiful farm.
It's been months.
I haven't even wanted to venture outside.
But today is warm. The wind is blowing and the memories strong.
The river rages with the ice cold mountain run off.
The expectancy of Spring in the air.
It is Holy Week.
The culmination of the Season of Lent.
These 40 days have gone so quickly.
How many days have I been still?
I haven't filled a bag in a week.
I have failed.
My expectations, not met.
A goal. Not reached.
I have let other things crowd the space.
I wonder; what are those things?
I have little to show for my time.
I have no tangible evidence.
That is the way it is with me.
I need to see the proof.
The river rages with the ice cold mountain run off.
The expectancy of Spring in the air.
It is Holy Week.
The culmination of the Season of Lent.
These 40 days have gone so quickly.
How many days have I been still?
I haven't filled a bag in a week.
I have failed.
My expectations, not met.
A goal. Not reached.
I have let other things crowd the space.
I wonder; what are those things?
I have little to show for my time.
I have no tangible evidence.
That is the way it is with me.
I need to see the proof.
I have no way to quantify if I have spent time learning to be still.
My bag a day gave way to doctors and cello; homework and dinners.
But before I write it all off as hopeless.
I think about the time on the rock.
It was quiet.
I found no need for words.
It was just me. And the Creator.
I breathed in the deep earthy scent.
I gazed over winter's finality and the promise of spring.
I could hear the rage of winter's wrath in the river;
coursing and pressing the confines of the river path.
I felt the pressure of the wind as the gusts came.
And I felt the warmth of the sun after the stinging cold of a relentless winter.
This is what it means to be still.
I sought this communion.
The weeks of purposefully seeking, has found me desiring the still.
Unconsciously I sought the stillness.
I went toward the quiet.
Psalm 23:3
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
It didn't leave me uncomfortable.
My soul wrestled with the new grief before me.
The quiet; soothing and refreshing.
The journey through Lent may not have been perfect.
But the desire to still my aching soul is in process.
I long for the struggle to be over.
I long for the ache to disappear.
Habakkuk 3:19
The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet,
and he will make me to walk upon mine high places
But I am learning.
One moment at a time.
To surrender all that I am.
To seek the quiet.
To rest in the presence of our Holy God.
My bag a day gave way to doctors and cello; homework and dinners.
But before I write it all off as hopeless.
I think about the time on the rock.
It was quiet.
I found no need for words.
It was just me. And the Creator.
I breathed in the deep earthy scent.
I gazed over winter's finality and the promise of spring.
I could hear the rage of winter's wrath in the river;
coursing and pressing the confines of the river path.
I felt the pressure of the wind as the gusts came.
And I felt the warmth of the sun after the stinging cold of a relentless winter.
This is what it means to be still.
I sought this communion.
The weeks of purposefully seeking, has found me desiring the still.
Unconsciously I sought the stillness.
I went toward the quiet.
Psalm 23:3
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
It didn't leave me uncomfortable.
My soul wrestled with the new grief before me.
The quiet; soothing and refreshing.
The journey through Lent may not have been perfect.
But the desire to still my aching soul is in process.
I long for the struggle to be over.
I long for the ache to disappear.
Habakkuk 3:19
The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet,
and he will make me to walk upon mine high places
But I am learning.
One moment at a time.
To surrender all that I am.
To seek the quiet.
To rest in the presence of our Holy God.
Dear Tammy...you are right on track with your 'bag a day'! You have allowed the Lord to help you identify, sort, and unload the heaviness of whatever weighs on your heart on any given day. Daily, you are in the process of surrendering, clearing out, and making room for Joy! And by sharing your life so transparently with us, you have helped us recognize, identify with, and apply it to our own 'bags' that need to go! I thank God for your giftings that help on the way of stillness and knowing in Him. Many Blessings to you...Love & Prayers, M.
ReplyDeleteWe are on a journey of knowing Him. Each day He longs for us to be in His presence. It is in finding those moments and resting that spur us through the trials. Thank you Marguerite. Your encouragement has been a gift.
DeleteDear Tammy, Your post today (as well as many other days) IS evidence of your wonderful internal growth through this long grieving season! Can you hear it if I rewind your own words? "I need to see the proof...I have no way to quantify if I've spent time learning to be still....(yet) I sought this communion...The weeks of purposefully seeking, has found me desiring the still.To rest in the presence of our Holy God." Oh my spiritual sister - your blog rings of Truth penetrating into the crevices of ache and struggle - raw and real, but always landing on your sure foundation in Christ. Take heart. Your writing reveals fruit of the peace only Christ can provide. Isaiah 32:17 reads "The fruit of righteousness will be peace; the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever." (NIV, 1984) or Psalm 131:2 in NASB: " Surely I have composed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child rests against his mother, so my soul is like a weaned child within me." May the WORD encourage you as you continue to walk, in stillness and peace amidst life's storms...and reassure you of "proof" with or without a bag for Lent :) ~a new friend
ReplyDeleteBeing still is work. The struggle is the process. Longing to bear fruit in the midst of this journey. The Ancient Word is life to me. Thank you sweet friend.
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