When the summer started, I made sure to think of all that I needed to accomplish and all the hurriedness already accumulating on the calendar. Prudently, I prepared myself for the summer to be busy. I omitted the possibility that it might also be peaceful.
But between graduations and car rides, mealtimes and weddings, yardwork and parties, the calm found me. As each day rolled into the following, peace slipped in beside me. And while one day to the next might have actually been equally busy, the difference came in me, in my learning to pause when a pause was there. The world never stopped, but I started to, each time more willingly than the last.
In the stillness God began to work, not with the brutal processes that restructure like clay being kneaded, but with the gentle molding and smoothing that follow afterwards. From the silence emerged an excitement that I had neglected, and everyday I felt more of a thrill at being alive. The lightness of morning sun streaming across my purple walls, the smooth sensation of ivory keys beneath my fingers, the deliciousness of warm, buttered waffles for breakfast, and the sweaty satisfaction of weeding flowerbeds outdoors on a humid day gave me a new exuberance to charge forward into the moment - without being swept away in the rush.
"Be still, be still," I now whisper more and more, consciously seeking these moments. Even while drawing me in, the interludes motivate me more than the busyness, and I am learning how activity and quiet complement rather than oppose each other. Balanced with stillness, the activity becomes less hectic, and suddenly I find the everyday chores and responsibilities peaceful as well as the true silence. Breaking from the relentless tedium, I remember how much I enjoy simple tasks, and how using my hands to create something, whether a dress or a tune or a snack, satisfies me in a unique way that radiates confidence and joy from its very simplicity.
With the beginning of a new school semester only a week away, I am noticing myself wondering and worrying whether the fall will steal this blissful tranquility. Unfortunately, I have seen how easily I wind and tangle myself into the very work I am trying to spin. Despite that, I can stop worrying. The year will get crazy and the days become packed, but there's a soul-quiet that can trump the schedule and make everything slow inside. I want to actively seek the calm until it becomes a habit and not a rarity.
Peace might be a priceless gift, but it is also free. And I am so ready to take it.
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