Thursday, March 24, 2011


I think the quiet is trying to talk to me today. I woke up with a snarl on my face. I could hardly look at the kids, I suppose I didn't want them to see me that way. I don't know why I was so grumpy. Perhaps my soul wasn't ready for the noise of the day, the list that was creeping up on me.

I went out with a friend last night. We went to a movie and afterward we sat in her driveway and talked. We shared pieces of our stories. After she left the van, words hanging from the air like a warm summer evening, I drove home in the dark silence. I was quiet, breathing deeply, savoring the words, the warmth, the night. I was remembering sitting on my bed in our farmhouse many years ago, a different lifetime ago. I remember closing my eyes and having a picture in my mind of God. It seemed strange to me then and it stills feels strange today in that I can still remember quite clearly what it was. There were different colors and objects rotating around, and in the center of the circle of business, motion and chaos, was the word GOD. I lay on my bed, my window open, my mother's garden, my father's alfalfa fields filling my senses as the sweet summer breezes stole through the screen, and there was God in the midst of everything.

Last night I shared with my friend how I've always felt God with me. He's been beside me. As those words floated out of my mouth, that colorful circle with GOD in the center floated through me. God in the mind of a seven or eight year old girl. God on a summer day when there wasn't many chores to attend to. God on a cold March night at 10:30 p.m. driving home alone, to my home, to my precious ones, awaiting their final kisses of the day. God in the quiet of a Thursday morning with a snarl on my face and a list in my hand. God always, everywhere. God with me.

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