By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
A new year. A new month. A new week.
Do you ever get the feeling that you have to gear up and get a jump on things? Get a head start?
But a head start on what? Anxiety, stress, over-achieving? Completing that to-do list at the speed of light?
Our lives are fast paced, weighed down, and packed with expectations, demands, and duties. Yet God says, “Be still.”
Why does He say that?
And how can we do it?
I find help when I look at nature. The birds aren’t in a hurry. Neither is the buck that lingers around my home because a certain doe beds down here at night.
The sun doesn’t race across the sky. The stars and moon hang still against the inky night. Yes, they appear to move as our earth spins and orbits, but at a nearly imperceptible speed.
Consider the common phrases “slow down” and “speed up.” Do we subconsciously prefer the metaphorical up over down?
Lately I have heard the Lord’s whisper, “Live at the speed of life.”
That concept appeals to me. Hurry has become a habit. I wasn’t created to live at the speed of light, which is what I habitually try to do.
When I ask, the Lord helps me gear down and draw a calm breath. He helps me find the pace that keeps me in step with Him.
Even if that step is one upon which I sit and wait.
Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.
~Live at the speed of life. Click To Tweet
By midafternoon they were home, Ara’s arms full of bundled fabric and ribbon as she stepped through the front door of the sprawling log house.
“Back here.” Lilly called from her room—a room Ara had never entered. She stopped at the threshold, awed by the paintings. In one, a woman and child stood in a meadow, and in another a small dark-haired girl sat in a swing beneath a large tree. Ara’s heart broke with sudden memories of hushed words and shadowed smiles. Swallowing an ache, she stepped into the room.
Lilly looked up from her treadle sewing machine and caught Ara’s expression. “Her name was Emily. Such a delicate thing.” She set aside her sewing. “These paintings are how I imagine she would have looked had she survived that first hard winter.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ara whispered.
Lilly pressed her palm to her heart. “We loved Emily for the time she was with us, and I love her still.” She rose and went to her bedside table and picked up a small, fabric-covered box. “Like so many parents who have buried their children in this vast land, I’ve entrusted her to the Lord’s care.”
Ara set her purchases aside and shrugged out of the heavy coat. Lilly reached for her hand and wrapped Ara’s fingers around the box. “This is for you. I can’t wait.” ~The Snowbound Bride
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