Swirl...

I was surprised today by an event so unusual here that it took my breath away. In the early afternoon, all of the sudden really, a devastating wind blew up from the west and wreaked havoc throughout our area. Trees were toppled, trash cans knocked over, debris spread far and wide, while rain barreled down our streets in gigantic waves! It was awesome. I stood in my garage, mouth agape, for 15 minutes as this display of God's power roared. Then, as soon as it had arrived, it vanished leaving branches and bent stop signs as the only evidence that anything had happened.

Life is like that so often. Storms come quickly, often with devastating effect, leaving only scars behind to prove life happened at all. But what of the in between times? There are clearly times when storms are not blasting through my mind and emotions, but I rarely take stock of the good times. Why is that? As usual I have a theory...I call it the "Headline" theory.

In the business of reporting and making money from news, think CNN, or any newspaper, good news rarely sells. In our media saturated culture we live and breathe by media alerts about everything from stock quotes to weather reports. And because there are so many news options, well, the one with the most interesting, or sensational story is going to get eye balls on their story, selling more papers, ads, whatever. And why do we demand so much information? Ah, herein lies the rub...distraction.

I think we like to keep our minds on something, ANYTHING other than our deepest needs, fears, longings, struggles and yes, even what would bring us joy. I don't want to think too long about what I am missing in my life, or how empty I feel, or whatever. And I think this is very common. Silence is almost non-existent in our culture because we are afraid of what lies there.

For me, and I know I don't speak for you, but if I sit still and alone for too long I get a little fidgety. Gotta do something, sweep my garage (I know, kind of mundane but I actually like a neat garage!), play guitar, write my blog, or go for a long walk. But occasionally I am surprised a silent retreat.

Late at night as I lay on my back preparing for sleep I often pray, but I don't often listen. I mull over a scripture, perhaps, or pray for a specific person that needs help, but rarely do I stay silent. The wheels still turn normally at first, slowing with each passing moment, but they still turn. Swirling around, casting debris across town, tearing branches from my mental and emotional trees, I remain distracted, unless...

A deep, long breath intercedes. But this breath is different, more than the drinking in of oxygen, it is the drinking in of life itself. A transformation happens as I recall, hmmmm, Someone bigger than myself. I remember why I'm here. I am not my own, I have been bought with a price. I have purpose beyond eating, working, paying bills. The winds calm. Trees no longer quake. I listen. Silence. Relief. Joy. Sleep.