o I took a break from my writing yesterday and wandered into the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee. And there, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Scout Labradoodle.
Scout was sitting, alert, staring at me intensely. It was almost as if her eyebrows were arched in an unspoken question. But her meaning was clear, “Well, dad, are you just going to stand there thinking about your work, or are you going to pay a little more attention to me? Huh? Come on then; tell me; what’s it going to be?”
We played a little, then took a short walk. But even on the walk Scout sensed that I was hurrying, as if to get the break over with so I could get back to work. So she stalled, stopped frequently to smell the roses (only, with dogs, it’s not exactly roses they’re interested in sniffing), and just kind of loped along as if we had all the time in the world.
Eventually I took the hint, drew in a few deep breaths, and slowed down.
Ahhhh. Be still. Cease striving. Refocus. Renew. Refresh.
I believe the quality of my work has been impacted recently by the tension of needing to finish up and move on to the next thing. Being alive, living, is not about the next thing; it’s about now, this day, this moment.
Being alive, living, is not about the next thing; it’s about now, this day, this moment.
That’s what the psalm writer is getting at in this oft-quoted scripture: [God] makes wars cease to the ends of the earth. He breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire. He says, “Be still, and know that I am God…” (Psalm 46)
I’m thinking I need to practice a little more be-still-ing in my life. In fact, I’m convinced of it. - DEREK