Sunday Morning Serenity

Earlier this week, just before Dave and I had to leave town for a few days, I looked inside my computer bag where I thought I had stored a notebook with all the information from a client meeting that day, but the notebook wasn't there. It was nowhere to be found in our house or the Story Shack. The last time I remembered using it was on a bench in the client's lobby. This unfortunate discovery came at an equally unfortunate time: 6 p.m. I jumped in the car and sprinted over there, praying that somebody would be working late and could let me in. Sure enough, the building was locked. And sure enough, prayers were answered when a good friend who works there happened by. Because of the snowstorm in Birmingham, she had actually spent a night or two in that building. When I came along, she had just finished up a long day and was, I'm sure, so ready to go home, but she still took the time to let me in and help me find the missing notebook. Grateful, grateful, grateful.

When I told my mother about it, she told me how blessed I was to have a friend like that. And then she said, "You've got too much on your mind." She's right. I do. Most people I know—women especially—have too much on their minds. Work, kids, parents, home, church, school, pets, grocery lists, to-do lists, wish lists, work-outs, time-outs, doctors' appointments, hair appointments, weight loss, meal plans, lesson plans, hoped-for vacation plans—and that's not even counting keeping up with Downton Abbey and making sure we remembered to buy chicken wings for the Super Bowl.

Probably what I long for most on any given day is quiet. And stillness. A total cessation of the treadmill. Time to plant a flower. Or read a book. Or sit in a swing and do nothing. I wish we had a fireplace and time to nap in front of it. I wish we had a tiny house with a huge porch on the Gulf so I could sit and stare at that beautiful water all day long. I wish I had a whole month to write my own stories. I wish Dave and I had a  whole month to go wherever we wanted to, without worrying about paying the mortgage or the power bill. We aren't likely to have all those things anytime soon. But I'm hoping we can have little slices of them. Maybe not months of stillness, but a few hours here and there. 

I'm rereading the Gospels, and I guess my own overloaded brain has made me more aware of these passages, but there are so many instances where Jesus withdraws to a quiet place to pray and to be alone. And He knew the disciples needed to do that, as well. There's a verse in Mark where Jesus is talking with the disciples after He had commissioned them and sent them out to minister. It happens right before the feeding of the five thousand. I'm carrying it with me this week:

The apostles gathered around Jesus
and reported to him all they had done and taught. 
Then, because so many people were coming and going
that they did not even have a chance to eat, He said to them, 
“Come with me by yourselves
to a quiet place
and get some rest.”
Mark 6:30-31

 

 

 

Comments

[Nancy Dorman-Hickson]

The nurturing Jesus...I love that image. Thanks for sharing. Your story reminded me of my own in so many ways. Glad to hear you and Dave made it okay during the storm. You yourself are the same kind of friend to others, you know. I ask Carole Cain if that's not true!

[Kacey]

Quiet and still moments in time are priceless.

[Valerie]

Agree entirely:)