Be Still

I’m here, Lord. Densely embedded in the forest of the unknown. And I know You told me it wasn’t going to be easy, that I wasn’t going to understand right away. And I was ok with that. So I walked into the thicket, because I trusted You. Trusted You knew what You were doing.

I still trust You. But I am human. And I think too much. Like Thomas, I need to see Your hands and feel physical proof. I want to see the whole picture, want to see the clearing. But I’m knee deep in leaves and surrounded by the sweet scent of juniper, aroma seeping into my skin. For a moment, I let my eyes drift closed, my ears drawing to the birds chirping through the evening air. Somewhere ahead of me, the path continues on. But I’ve strayed to the side to pick a bouquet of wildflowers, so vibrant and beckoning against the drooping sky. When the morning awakens I’ll fall back into step and observe Your world from my twisted, anxious eyes, longing for an answer to my destination dream.

But tonight, I’ll drop my body to a bed of boughs, a whispering of stars lain as a balcony above me. I’ll still my racing head, my throbbing heart, and settle my breathing to a soft exhale of expectancy. I am quiet in this velvet night, in this slumbering solitude. My questions won’t be answered tonight, and that’s ok. For You are serenading me with cicadas and the gentle song of the wind. Tonight. Tonight You are with me, hovering over me with a promise to get me through the night, get me through tomorrow. My eyes adjust to the dark, and silken shadows sway through these deep and dancing woods. I watch this beautiful ballet before falling asleep with Your sweet name resting delicately on my lips. You will sustain me for one more day, one more journey a little bit farther along. And if I make camp once again in the brambles and thistles, I know You’ll find me a smooth spot to sit, a soft place to rest my longing limbs.