Stillness is difficult for me. Even when I'm sitting down "resting" at home, I'm grading papers (I teach 3rd grade), watching Food Network or the Cooking Channel, playing Bejeweled Blitz, buzzing through Pinterest, or blogging. My mind is slowing down as I swiftly approach fifty, but it's still busy, busy, busy. I'm always thinking ahead to what's coming next in my life whether it's personal, family, household, or work. My mind spins with worry.
This past week, we helped our recently graduated daughter move to Colorado. We currently live in Louisiana. Our family lives fourteen hours away in Florida and now our girl is living eighteen hours away in the opposite direction from the rest of our world. I have a mental image of myself being stretched like the little wrestler man I gave my husband as a joke one time. This little guy was made of the most pliable rubber imaginable and you could stretch his arms an amazing distance without breaking him. Only in my mind's eye, I see myself tearing right down the middle. How in the world can I possibly keep up with my son, my parents, and my inlaws in Tampa and with my daughter clear on the other side of the country?
This thought didn't occur to me until we were facing the eighteen hour return trip from Colorado to Louisiana yesterday. When it hit me, it felt like a ton of bricks. Though it was early (5:30 a.m.), my mind hit full alert head on and my body quickly followed - my heart pounded, my gut spasmed, and I found myself fighting tears that I really didn't want to have to defend to my husband who seemed to be dealing with none of these things as the mountains faded into the distance behind us. We were leaving our twenty-two year old daughter (and her wonderful boyfriend) to fend for themselves in a city they'd only visited once. We wouldn't be able to reach them quickly in an emergency. We couldn't run over and help them fix something, or move something, or take chicken soup over if they were to get sick. We were being rendered helpless as parents.
And that's when God stepped in. "Be still." I swear that's what the voice in my head said. I rolled my eyes. I was belted into a Dodge Ram barreling down the highway at 70 mph. What choice did I have? "Be still." I sighed. Oh. That kind of still. Mentally still. Worry still. Trusting still.
That's really hard for me. Did I already mention that? Really, really hard. But I gave it a try. It didn't work at first. So I prayed for her. I prayed for our safe journey home. I prayed for her some more. Then, I ran out of words. Finally. My thoughts fell silent and I let the Holy Spirit take over where I left off. I didn't know what else to pray, but I knew He knew.
Okay, that lasted for all of five minutes. But when that five minutes was up, my mind didn't go back and pick up the worry thread I'd left dangling. Instead, a timely phone call from my husband's friend in West Virginia got us thinking about chickens. Next thing I knew, I was on my iPad knee deep in all things chicken - types, purposes, coop varieties, egg colors, and on and on and on. My mind was whirling again, but it was a productive whirl. Where would we put the coop? What kind of chickens would we get? How was I going to raise chickens without violating my cardinal rule of not making friends with the food?
"God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day." Psalm 46:5 wasn't revealed to me until today when I researched what God meant when he said, "Be still." I understand now that I'm to be still in the face of danger, in uncertain times, in calamity, or simply in the midst of change that I can't control. "Be still and know that I am God." God is in control. He doesn't need my worry. He doesn't need my suggestions. He doesn't need my ineffective busyness. He needs for me to be still and let Him be who He is - the Heavenly Father of my daughter, whom he loves very much.
My heartbeat is calm again. My gut has ceased its spasms. I no longer see myself ripped in half, stretched from Florida to Colorado. I am, however, not quite the master of "still." I'm working on becoming the master of chickens...Rhode Island Reds to be exact. Their poo is supposed to be amazing fertilizer for gardens, and that's where I'm working on my faith right now. It's perfect!
Now...which type of coop is the best to keep out dachshunds, cats, coyotes, and hawks? Where's the best place to put them in the yard? Is there a local provider or should we mail order? Chicks or pullets?
Yep. There it goes. Can you hear the whirrrrrrr of my mental gears turning?
By the way, the girl is just fine. She's feathering her first little nest and is having a ball doing so. She's even been on a picnic with her boyfriend and their dog. Does it sound like she's worried? Not at all. Does it make sense for me to worry myself sick for her? Not at all.
Isn't God amazing?
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Chicken Coops, Rhode Island Reds, and a great site: Backyard Chickens!
http://www.backyardchickens.com/
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