Being Still

This has been a weird week. Ryan's work schedule has been packed with no breathing room. And off the clock, he's spent every evening running to help various friends with various needs around their houses. I've entered the zone of final preparation for a huge handful of speaking coming my way in May, and a few other projects that extend beyond that.

Yesterday, as I took Ryan's lunch to work so we could eat together in the 13 minutes (I'm not kidding) allocated for such frivolities, my mind felt like it might just explode. I wasn't mad, I wasn't sad, I wasn't anything except full. So much to think about, and I wasn't sure where to direct my mental energies first.

I left Ryan while the practically-still-whole quesadilla I inhaled in less than 13 minutes rattled around most uncomfortably in my stomach and tears rolled down my cheeks. He kissed my forehead and told me to go home and do something for me so I could find a sense of calm in the mind-storm.

So I pulled out the chalk and made the "open" sign for my office door, cleaned out my inbox, washed the sheets, and tried to think about what to write today.

That's when God directed my attention to this little book sitting over on the shelf.

Ahh yes. I believe I know that book.

And yesterday, I needed it myself. Yesterday I needed to stop, sit, and be.

Reminders of Tuesdays in the prayer chapel when I went without an agenda and just sat before the Lord to hear Him.

Reminders of assignments that seemed silly but were oh-so-necessary for my soul.

Reminders of His plan being more important than my own perceived plan.

So I skimmed through its pages again. I relived those Tuesdays and the heart lessons that taught me so much.

And then I put aside the work and went for a walk. While on the walk, I got a text from a friend who had asked me to help her that day but decided she was good on her own. With extra time, I went home and sat on the front porch, feet up, coffee in hand, and was still.

Cars drove by, the boys down the street played basketball in their driveway, Braeya cried from the other side of the window screen, and I could hear faint thunder in the dark blue distance.

But I just sat and was still.

 When I got up a while later, the day ahead remained busy. Ryan still had to work late, I still had kiddos to watch, the sky still got darker, and the list of to-help chores on Ryan's list was still long. But after being still, I could breathe again.

Maybe you need to breathe, too?