Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.
Augustine of Hippo, Confessions
Maya, our Yorkie, is curled up and snoozing at the foot of the bed. I pause in my morning reflection and watch her little chest rise and fall in time to the metronome of her breathing.
The window is open. In the distance a siren whines and coyotes start a chorus. Her ear perks up. I can see from where I sit that her eyes are open now. She is listening. She doesn’t stir and her breathing doesn’t change; she is still at peaceful rest, not feeling threatened but just noting the disturbance.
A few moments pass. Her ear drops gently and her eyes close.
Soon, more sirens. Lots of sirens. Gerry wonders aloud what on earth is going on in the valley. Maya raises her head, alert now.
She uncurls from her sleeping position and pads over to the edge of the bed where she stands and looks out the window, listening. She is not agitated, just aware. She knows she is safe here at the foot of our bed and, in a moment, settles and returns to rest.
I think that this is how it should be for me too. I should know by now that I am safe in the care of the Creator. When I recognize a disturbance I should, with prayer, be able to rest and trust.
It doesn’t always happen that way. It often doesn’t happen that way.
Even now, after I’ve seen again and again how God is faithful, I’m prone to become agitated. Fearful. Forgetful.
And it is in quiet moments like this, that slip by unnoticed if I don’t pay attention, that I am reminded of the truth.
And I return to rest.
Soli Deo gloria.
Isn’t it a grand feeling to know you are safe, protected, cared for? I am grateful for every quiet day, but when it is not, I am comforted by “it will work out, He’ll see to it.”
Karen, yes. I can’t imagine walking through this crazy, messy life without the anchor of my faith.