To-do lists, needs, deadlines, routines, necessaries all fight for the second hand of my clock. I push through toward the goals, the expectations set before me. There was a season when it felt like daily winds whipped across the great lake of my life stirring the pounding surf and white-capped waves, crashing and enveloping the lighthouse anchored to the pier of my life. Not much unlike the vast Lake Michigan in winter near my home.
But typically when darkness came I’d slip into the midnight cadence of a rhythmic breath for an hour or so, then awakened by a soft initial stirring. I turn over to grab at the quiet I desired, but turbulence in my heart would rise, until robotically, I’d rise and slip out of the bedroom to a quiet chair next to a fire.
They became life-giving to me. A small lamp gave me sweet amber light but it was the sweet Light of Jesus that got me through that season. Those nights ushered in peace, filled my heart with hope, and delved into my soul.
That was grace. Grace knocking on the fuss of my life, and opening doors to quiet restoration.
Do you find there are times when there is so much on your plate, and it’s hard to settle your mind and body down?