Drip, drop, drip…last bits of water slip from the balcony above and splash onto our rain-soaked patio.
The wind stills.
The sea fog rolls in dense and palpable, thick as pea soup.
It’s like living in a cloud.
The boughs of pine outside my window sway ever so gently, to and fro.
All is quiet, all is at rest.
When the voices hush, and the stillness emerges, do we welcome it? Do we settle in it and tune our ears to hear what beckons?
Or do we fill the void with something other, something to ease the eeriness, something to distract ourselves just a little bit longer.
I am more than a little guilty.
We run from the quiet, from the serene. We run, at the same time knowing it’s exactly what we long for, exactly what we need.
Instead, let’s settle in.
Let’s pull up a chair and sit awhile in the quiet.
We just might find there, answers to questions we didn’t even know we were asking. We just might find there, a beckoning to richer and fuller life than we even thought possible. And we just might find there, a knowing that makes our very souls come alive.
“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalm 46:10