Still

I took a picture to remind me.  I framed it.  And captioned it.

Be still.

I even picked an anthem for this picture sung by Hillary Scott from Lady A.

Still

But, it’s dang hard.

Here we are at the end of 2021 and my shortened inhales have been no greater and no less than the reduced volume of my exhales. My dad has been practicing and measuring his breaths with a spirometer to prove he’s breathing sufficiently this year.  I question the sufficiency of my own.  It’s just that this year has brought a lot of waiting and with it, there are all these breaths of mine that are minimal and shallow.   I often was hard on my dad because of his shallow breathing.  I should have measured my own.

What a season of waiting 2021 has been.

And Waiting.

Waiting for a coveted appointment, Dad’s medical clearance, cardiac clearance, covid clearance and two surgical outcomes. Waiting for a natural birth, a baby’s healthy cry, a threatening winter’s drive home, a solitary but medically necessary return, and my daughter’s healing.  Waiting for an employment exam, interview, test results, and my son’s career confirmation.  Waiting for his first burning building.  Waiting for his next.  Waiting for a plane to land two men home.  Waiting for a mind to be restored.  Waiting for an effect the vaccine might have,  waiting for an effect of not having the vaccine, waiting for the end to a quarantine, waiting for another end.

And waiting right now.

Brief breaths.

I try to breathe with more intentional inhales and deliberate exhales, but it has come less natural these past 365 days.   And just when I feel its normalcy.  It gets held.  

A friend’s son’s lost life, another friend’s son, a friend’s husband, a friend’s mom, a mother’s daughter, and even when there is way too many people I know, I notice I’m doing it for those I don’t.

Still I wait, and yet what I can’t do, what I don’t do, is bring myself to wait STILL.

Just still.

At rest.

Unruffled.  Untroubled.  Unstirred.

I know better.  I know who’s God.  I know who’s not.

My picture is trying to remind me what I know.

“Yet, I still dare to hope when I remember the faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.  Great is His faithfulness.  His mercies began afresh each morning.  I say to myself,  The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him.  The Lord is good to those who depend on Him, to those who search for Him.  So it is good to wait quietly.”

And be still.



Lamentations 3







   













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