As a busy homeschooling mother of four, quiet is something of a rare commodity in my life. In the struggles of winter, I have been forced find more of it, as my soul quivers anxious and the wounds bleed out into my mothering and the flow of my housework (not to mention my work as a student and freelance author).
Quiet is my morning walk to the mailbox. Rest is my prayer time up in the woods near my baby's grave while my children take their afternoon nap. Peace is the 10 minutes I spend every evening after they are in bed, while my husband tends the pets, and I sit silent under the stars, alone with God.
At first, I focused hard on prayer. I have a list of people and needs I pray for daily, and they're filed in my head, permanent stamps of impression written indelibly on a compassionate nurse's heart. But slowly, God has stilled my soul. The needs of others prayed for, yes, but moments He steals back to soothe my soul, to quiet the thrashing spirit.
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. Selah (pause and think about it). Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah (pause and think about it). (from Psalm 46)He is teaching me slowly - this stubborn mind of mine, this heart that doesn't soak in His water easily - that He is here for me, pursuing me, desiring time with me. I've learned to tip my head back and close my eyes, feel the sun on my face, and simply be. With Him. Without words. Without an agenda. Just be still, and know He is my God.
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