Tip of My Iceberg

It was one of those weekends that creep out of nowhere and remind me why the week needs an end.

We all need a break every once in awhile.

John has been traveling. There were no pressing plans, apart from helping some dear friends begin moving out of their home. No gatherings or games to attend. No special meetings. And no one staying at our home. But me.

Quiet.

My typical MO is to fill my time with stuff and doing. Not being predisposed to enjoy alone time, I tend to schedule things or begin projects or meet people.

I didn’t.

I’d not been feeling well. Hadn’t slowed down long enough to do anything about it. I just complained about the hippo sitting on my chest, squishing the air out of me and making it hard to breathe.

This weekend I hit the pause button.

This is not how I operate. There are things to do, people to see, projects to finish.

And it all depends on me.

That shouldn’t be anybody’s normal.

Yes, I heard things call to me.

My house could have used a good cleaning. I could have felt overwhelmed by the brown-potty syndrome. (Some might know it as ring-around-the-toilet.) The fingerprinted windows, thanks to small hands and smaller noses, were screaming to be bright and shiny. I could follow footprints from the outside in and knew where everyone had gone. Countertops were growing things where crumbs had taken root and were becoming seriously disgusting.

But I didn’t listen to them. I didn’t look at them.

I sat out on my back porch and appreciated the stillness and beauty. The sun reflecting off the pond. My neighbor’s beautiful landscaping. (Yes, my neighbor’s–not ours.) The gentle dance of the tree branches in the breeze.

And I could hear the quiet whisper of God.

He’s there, you know. All I have to do is look outdoors and see the incredible handiwork of an Intelligent Designer. Someone who created a plethora of different trees, flowers, and animals. A silent declaration of Someone greater than me who put all this together. Who then put us here to enjoy it. And Him.

Many will poo-poo that idea. The thought of an all-powerful, all-knowing, ever-present God scares many people. They’d rather contrive fantastic and unbelievable ways that all this–including us with all our diversity and uniquenesses–came to be.

Truth is available for anyone who’s willing to see it. Doubts, denials and questions can’t silence the voice of God. A lack of belief doesn’t make Him disappear. He’s here in the beauty of nature. In the cry of a newborn baby. In the bonds of deep friendship.

I sat. In silence. And for awhile, all the words I always have were stilled. All the demands were hushed.

I sat and enjoyed God. His beauty spoke to me. His creation reminded me that I’m a very small part of a much bigger picture.

The doing will come later. It always does. But for now, time with the Lord is restoring my soul.

The brown-potty syndrome will be there tomorrow.