The sun begins it's decline in the sky.
The light casting shadows on the fields.
The landscape ablaze in color.
My favorite time of year.
Zucchini cooks for lasagna.
I have made a chocolate pie for small group.
The kids are outside playing and it is unusually quiet.
A quiet that doesn't threaten.
It feels peaceful.
There is still chaos around in piles and clumps.
Danger lurks when you walk.
One must find their path through.
Yet there is a peace that has settled.
It wasn't there this morning.
It wasn't there earlier this afternoon.
Grief and longing permeated every thought.
Visions of what once was and can be no more ran across the screen in a relentless string.
But I sought to enter in.
Choosing to step through the gate.
The smell of dinner fills the home.
The heat from cooking; a relief from the chill in the air.
A safe haven.
I re-heat my coffee.
Our home has been riddled with heart ache.
Filled with cancer and uncertainty.
I have rebounded continually trying to be strong.
Yet wanting to fall apart.
The peace that transcends is heaven sent.
It is on the wings of the Praises and the walk in Thanksgiving.
It is the persistence in training.
I place the Zucchini Lasagna in the oven to bake.
There is still a comfortable quiet.
These are the times when the holy touches earth.
When we seek to be filled.
Our Agenda set aside.
An openness to be poured into.
In the striving and the busy we forget.
We lean into a false message of productivity satisfies the desire.
And we are left empty.
It is when we choose the quiet and the surrender that the real work happens.
Push away the clamor for your time.
Settle the churning of the tierney of the urgent.
More will be accomplished in the quiet than in the rush of the "to do".
I think I will sit at the feet of Jesus a little longer today.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.