a few times a week they run, thumping up the stairs, breathless in panicked joy –
“run! hurry! it’s almost done and this sunset is the most beautiful one ever!”
i’m tempted to stay rooted to my seat. it’s windy. it’s chilly. i’m settled.
(be still and know that I am God.)
but settled in my seat isn’t equal to settled in my heart, for often i’m restless with hurry-sickness,
frustrated at all i don’t accomplish.
so oddly, i need to run to find the stillness.
the wind whips. i’m in slippers and sweatpants, and i’ve unknowingly (until later, when i arrive home breathless and my daughter giggles on seeing me), donned my scarf as a hat, bouncing down my back as i go. but i run after my boys, whose hearts are wide and wondrous at the sight of Creation, near to turning in for the night.
the clouds roll and tumble, and somehow, in the chaos, there is peace. in the rumble, there is silence of heart. and in the movement, i am still.
“the winds and the waves shall obey Thy will,
Peace, be still!
whether the wrath of the storm-tossed sea,
or demons or men, or whatever it be,
no water can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean, and earth, and skies;
They all shall sweetly obey Thy will,
Peace, peace be still.”
(mary ann baker)