A Bit of Quiet

Yesterday at 3:30 I scribbled my heart out to Jesus. I asked Him for patience and wisdom. I asked Him to forgive me for having a spirit of discontent and for noticing only the flaws in my family. And then I asked Him for quiet. It's been a relentless week. Nothing specific, just everything driving, drilling and demanding that combine to make a mama's week make a mama weak.

But He is strong, and He is faithful, and He is ever-so kind. And this afternoon He gave me that quiet. I found myself at the park with just Aidan and Avery, and He said, Here you go. A bit of quiet. I spread the blue and white checked blanket out on the freshly mowed grass. Barefoot, I soaked in the warm spring sunshine. While the kids pedaled their bikes round and round the loop, I sat and gave thanks.



There was no need to rush. The demands paused and I could be still and know that He is God. A great blue heron leaped into the sky from the swaying grasses. The kids circled back, took a swig of water. I delighted in Aidan's patience with his sister as she adjusted her helmet. Every good and perfect gift is from above. He simply waited and smiled and observed, "You have rosy cheeks." She smiled. Consider it all joy. And off they raced once more.



I slowly turned a page in my book. Austen's witty prose danced in my mind as a bee droned overhead. The red-tailed hawk stared stoically from his tree-top perch, defying anyone to interrupt this mama's solitude.



When the pedallers circled a last time, I knew it was time to relinquish that solitude. But that was okay. I was refreshed, I was ready. He knew what I needed, and as always, He provided. I closed my book and slipped on my shoes. Rounding up the troops, we moved on with our day. And I considered it all joy.