On Fridays a bunch of brave writers gather here to all spend five collective minutes writing on a single prompt. It’s a great way to catch your breath at the end of a long week. This blessed, beautiful place where we open our hearts and let words and tears and the inner workings of our lives bleed and flow and dance across the virtual pages. Yes, this community opens wide and invites you in to share. Come and visit and read. You will be blessed.
This week: Still
I can be calm. I can be quiet. No one who knows me would tell you that I am a boundless ball of energy.
I am not a Tigger personality.
I may be an introvert,
But I am not still.
If intensity can vibrate softly, tenuously poised on tension’s edge; if ferocity can roar soundlessly; if wildness can be contained beneath the muted, glass-faced front of self-control – all the while flinging about beneath it; that would be me.
There are words and ideas I yearn for: release,
I don’t know how.
I am not still.
The news ticker of my mind runs laps while for now, my physical body struggles to walk complete a circuit of the local market. I am continually trying to argue and fight against this fact and turn it into a myth. I am not still.
My spirit longs to pause before the throne of grace – longs to know what it is to truly leave things there in trust. Not leave it, then come dashing back ; somehow sure that my own watch care can discern the answer that would find far better resolution and assurance in the hands that fashioned Saturn’s rings. I am not still.
After how many lessons and a journey well-marked with my own tangents and segues between point A and point next that were redeemed by grace beyond measure – how many times do I still wonder, and question, and demand, and fret, and worry?
I am not still.
And yet (bless those saving words)
He is still here.
He has never left.
Moving through kairos time – always and everywhere altogether –
All the while, fully still and complete.
Under His hand,
I can be still.
How to Join
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