In the Quiet


And I say, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove!  I would fly away and be at rest; Psalm 55:6

This morning I didn’t even change, I went out to my prayer closet in my PJ’s in the half-light. It was hot, sticky, and the air smelled of dust. I couldn’t really smell it, since I have never had that sense. I share that genetic trait with my Grandpa on my Dad’s side. I went out, lit my candle and tried to remember the hymn that came to me at around 2AM this morning. I pulled it from the cobwebs of my mind after a few slugs of rich, deep coffee……..

Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee. Take my moments and my days, let them flow in endless praise, let them flow in endless praise. Take my hands and let them move, at the impulse of Thy love. Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee, swift and beautiful for thee.

I never did enjoy singing it, because I felt the melody kind of dragged along, but the words, the words. I feel the power of those words and the rest of the hymns I learned so long ago now more than ever. Those melodies, those words are the backdrop of my life. They come back so often and never fail to comfort, to strengthen, to bring peace. Unless someone had taken me to church, (thanks Mom) I never would have heard them. I hope they never go away.

This morning, God beckoned me to a still forest, a place I’ve cleared in my heart. Desert beauty only goes so far, especially when the mercury soars 110 and above.

There I gathered all my happiest memories like a child gathers favorite toys. “Sit with me,” He seemed to say, and just enjoy my presence here in the quiet. So I did. And I imagined I could actually smell the pine. “It’s one thing I want to smell when I get to Heaven,” I told Him. That, and salty air and flowers. “Oh,” He said, “You will smell that and much more, for the air teems with life and only life, and death is not even a distant memory.”

If you are grieving someone today, please know that there will come a day when the joy of simple things will make you smile again. There will come a day, and it will surprise you, that you will laugh again. You will probably feel guilty about that too, but try not to. They wouldn’t want that. But sure as I know anything, I know this. Dawn will break in your heart, and you will know you will be okay. And the memories will no longer cut like a knife, they will be a source of comfort.

You may wonder why people don’t come by. It’s not because they don’t care, it’s because they may not know what to say. They may be fishing for answers themselves, and they feel useless if they can’t give them to you. Just the same, you are loved, you are thought of, you are not alone.

Take my voice, and let me sing
Always, only, for my King;
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee.
Filled with messages from Thee.

Words: Frances R. Havergal 1874.


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