In The Quiet

In The Quiet

I’ve been quiet, I know. I haven’t written any words for a few weeks. It was as if I had run dry of anything to say. And so I’ve been sitting with this emptiness, listening and waiting for God to move in my life, knowing that He would show me the way again. And so He is, slowly, step by step.

I don’t know what shape Soul Reminders will take from here on out. I’m exploring the path I’m on. But I am still here with you, just as God is here with all of us. I’m grateful for the quiet that is nestling deep within me— it feels like God’s embrace, His neverending love for me. I’m trusting it. I hope that you too, are trusting the quiet spaces and places inside of you. Know that God dwells there.

 

Break Open The Clods

Break Open The Clods

Late in the afternoon, when the sun was losing her intensity, I tugged on my overalls and garden gloves and set out to plant red amaranth. The birds at the feeder kept me company, singing their little songs, talking amongst themselves about the day. Digging the holes, my trowel turned up clods of soil. I broke them open with my hands, crumbling them into little pieces so that the roots of the plants could grow more easily.

“Be my gardener, God. Break open the clods in me that keep my roots from growing,” I prayed. I placed a plant into the hole I’d prepared. “Welcome to the garden, little one,” I whispered.

Off in the distance, out beyond the trees that grow in a line toward the sea, I heard the soft sounds of God’s breath heading my way. I closed my eyes and turned my face so to feel it’s warmth. It moved around me, filling the garden with peace— gently breaking open my heart.

 

 

 

 

Sewn Into The Fabric Of God

Sewn Into The Fabric Of God

My heart and I felt our way along in the dark before dawn, down the hall and out into the garden. There we sat, smelling the coffee in the cup warming my hands, hearing the birds singing in the trees, feeling the chill of the damp fog. My heart reminded me that I am connected to everything in creation—sewn into the fabric of God.

I pulled a throw blanket up over my shoulders, curled up in the porch swing, connected to all life, and waited for the sun to rise and warm the earth.

The Composer

The Composer

Night was falling; the trees spoke to one another, their voices rising with each rustling leaf. The crickets tuned their wings and played their songs as a handful of crows flew noisily overhead, calling out the directions home, already late, and in a hurry. I laid down on the grass as God slowly covered the world with darkness. The frogs, living in secret places near the hedge, added their bass notes to the sounds of the night.

“You’re a composer,” I said to God. I closed my eyes and listened. I heard the beating of His heart, the breath escaping His lips, the sound of His love reverberating through all of creation.

“Thank you,” I said, and applauded the performance. The fog spilled over the hillside—cold and damp— and so I rose to go— but taking with me the knowledge that I am part of it all—my soul a chord in His great symphony.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Open Eyes

Open Eyes

A crow landed in the top of a tall pine, startling a flock of sparrows. They took flight, a cloud of confetti moving across the blue sky.  I watched them until they disappeared off towards the ocean. There are worlds of wonder taking place all around me, I thought to myself. I took a moment and observed the clouds—frothy white and whispy. The song of a finch invited my eyes to the feeder where she was perched, happily singing

“Pay attention,” God said softly and released a butterfly from His hand. I watched her dance from flower to flower.

“I’ll keep my eyes open to the things that really matter,” I answered.

A ribbon of birds appeared just beyond the garden—the returning sparrows. They landed one by one in a tall pine across the street, settling back down into God’s loving hands, where we all dwell.

Heartstrings

Heartstrings

The moon hung suspended on strings from God’s hands. I saw it there, above the trees just to the north, and walked out to greet it. God tugged it upwards, directing it higher and higher into the night sky. The stars came out to watch the show with me, the great marionettist entertaining us all.

“Direct me across the sky of my life, God,” I prayed.

A bird in the oak tree sang her last song before sleep; her voice filling my heart with peace, and I realized God was pulling me along by my heartstrings. I smiled up at the moon, we are in good hands, I thought.

 

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