"Be still, and know that I am God." ~ Psalm 46:10
These words keep blowing in an out of my thoughts. When I wake to the green-gold of a new day. When I find myself caught beneath an ocean of sky, perched on a mountain above the sea. When I feel the cloak of darkness fall on the twinkling lights of the distant hillsides. Not always the words, but the meaning of them.
Rush rush rushing is the life that sweeps on by the crusty shore where I find myself sitting dry-footed. Sometimes I think I'm on the wrong side of the river, and if only I could be brave enough to dive into the tumultuous surge of the current, perhaps I could reach the other shore. Intense is the silence, full of passion unreleased, poetry unspoken. I want to run around in circles screaming my head off, but instead I must be silent. I must be still.
I am humbled. Undeserving of the life I have (the love of family, the faithfulness of friends, the constancy of music, the companion of the sea), I crave more. I am full, but I think I am empty. What more do I need? I walk away from the confusion; I feel the breeze on my worried face; I wonder at the order of this beautiful world when all I can see is chaos; and I know that He is God.