In the Quiet

The wind whistles around my house, giving it a "whirring" caress.  The family is all off in different directions.  Faithful dog lies beside me, always protecting, always being my companion.  Independent feline lies just above me, on the sofa back, to "be" with me, on her terms.  And I listen.  

All I hear is the sounds of whirling wind, and nothing more.  I know there is snow swirling, because I saw it with my own delighted eyes this afternoon.  But now, in the dark, and the quiet, I am just sitting in my noise-less cocoon.  And thinking.

Father, do I get too busy to listen for you sometimes?  Do I miss what you are trying to say to me because I have more sounds around than necessary?  I know that when I do that, sometimes, I become anxious over things that I have not been called to be anxious over.  But I do it any way.  Sitting here, listening to almost silence, I hear you calling.  I hear you telling me that you have it all under control and that I can rest in you.  Why do I let myself ever get away from that Lord?  Why do I choose my own answers and my own solutions, and all of the clamor that goes with that.

I fear it has to do with my lack of trust in your Lord.  I dread the thought that that is true, but as it tumbles around in my small mind, I see truth in it.  I say I trust in you.  I believe that I trust in you.  But then, when things are broken, I go around, in all of my own power and strength, spinning up whirlwinds of my own, trying to make it all right.

Father, teach me to trust you.  To look for the quiet, and to turn my attentions purely toward you.  Remind me to make the time to focus on you, and you alone.  In the quiet.  In my quiet.  In Your quiet.  Lord, bring me to the Quiet, and meet me there.