Good morning…
Up in the middle of this night, I revisit some of my favorite photos from my week of watching our grandson Charlie. Learning that Charlie slept best in my arms and wanting to offer undisturbed time to our daughter-in-law Chandler, I spent several hours a day sitting beneath Charlie’s sleeping body. I noticed the passage of time and the silent movement of the light-filled Spirit.
When I looked to my right, I saw quiet beauty.
When I looked to my left I saw subtle movement.
Peace filled the room and expanded the lungs of my soul. As I waited patiently through Charlie’s naps, I remembered a story from one of my favorite books.
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Excerpt from page 21-22, When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd
…I traveled to St. Meinrad Archabbey for a retreat. One day after morning prayers, I walked to the edge of the pond and sat on the grass. I listened to the wind sigh over the water and tried to be still, to simply be there and wait in the moment. But almost instantly my inner chaos rose up. The need to keep moving, to act, to solve everything overpowered me. I got to my feet.
As I returned to the guest quarters, I noticed a monk, ski cap pulled over his ears, sitting perfectly still beneath a tree. There was such reverence in his silhouette, such tranquil sturdiness, that I paused to watch. He was the picture of waiting.
Later I sought him out. “I saw you today sitting beneath the tree – just sitting there so still. How is it that you can wait so patiently in the moment? I can’t get use to the idea of doing nothing.”
He broke into a wonderful grin. “Well, there’s the problem right there, young lady. You’ve bought into the cultural myth that when you’re waiting you’re doing nothing.”
Then he took his hands and placed them on my shoulders, peered straight into my eyes and said, “I hope you’ll hear what I’m about to tell you. I hope you’ll hear it all the way down to your toes. When you’re waiting, your not doing nothing. You’re allowing your soul to grow up. If you can’t be still and wait, you can’t become what God created you to be.”
Somehow I knew in my soul that his words were God’s words.
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God, the one and only— I’ll wait as long as he says. Everything I need comes from him, so why not? He’s solid rock under my feet, breathing room for my soul, an impregnable castle: I’m set for life (Psalm 62:1-2, MSG).
As I sat beneath Charlie’s soft body, quiet beauty came into focus, natural light subtly shifted, and, in the breathing room provided, our souls grew up a bit.
…Sue…
