I can hear the rustling of the trees as the breeze blows through my yard.
Dogs barking, a crow chatting, the sound of my dryer running.
If I sit still enough and close my eyes, I can hear the mailman out in front of my house stop at each box in my cul-de-sac, delivering today’s goodies.
And in an instant, my phone rings, and the hush that had covered my soul is swiftly yanked away and the hurry of the day seems to drag me downstream into the list of want-to’s and need-to’s and have-to’s.
All the while, the stillness waits for me to come back, return to listening. Breathing. Resting.
I’ve always found it curious that God has chosen a still, small voice to speak into the deepest parts of my heart. As if this life wasn’t trouble enough without having to strive to hear His voice…His calling, He would make it even more difficult to draw near by having a still and small voice. But as I catch a brief moment of listening before the hurry of the day rushes on, I notice that still moment is what is carrying me through the rest of the day. The filling up that happens when I sit still enough to let it rush in.
So I look for moments to lean in, to tune out and let His sweet and powerful Presence wash over and into me. Filling me up. Carrying me through.
My natural is to rush. But God…He never does. He waits.
And even when I think I have to be in a hurry. To do, to grow, to be and to strive. He waits still. For me to slow and lean. For as soon as I do, He is always faithful to fill to overflowing.