i was going to picnic for dinner.

i came home early from work to a four-member band trying on clothes while talking of image and trends and sophisticated meeting hard rock and wanting none of that punk rock stuff.  i rummaged through a mumsie’s amazing mary poppins type closet and found baby boy things to put into a bag for a shower i’m attending this evening.

a few texts, a few phone calls, and my evening plans are changed.  the four-member band walk out of the house, donned in their new apparel, to go and tape themselves practicing so they can critique stage presence.  i wander around the house noting the dirty kitchen counters, the laundry that should be put in after a long weekend get-away, a family room that’s in a bit of dissaray, but i opt to not take care of it… at least for now.

i grab a No Bake cookie off the kitchen table, pour myself a cup of “poser” sweet tea (only that sweet southern goodness), pick up a laptop and my phone (my constant connection to the world) and sit myself on the front porch step.  cars drive by and children ride by on their bikes.  a fire truck goes quickly down the street, the sirens telling of some mishap somewhere.

and i’m just here.  here with a quiet heart and not much to say.  i’m mulling on a lot and there are many scattered thoughts that are making circles in my head and chances are, if you were sitting next to me, sipping your own tea and watching the quiet town of madrid live its life then i’d probably speak a few words, think a bit aloud, ask what your thoughts were, wonder if anything i say makes sense, but mostly i’d just be. 

it’s been a long season of silence.  a long season of learning to wait upon the Lord.  a long season of learning to be still and know that He is God.  but this time of reminding myself to be still — to just be — has taught me more than so many seasons of busyness.

be still…

and i think i’ll continue as i take a walk though my cemetery, to see my field, and around the block.