Still I know....

I don't know why this is hard, the waiting, the standing still.

But it is.

Some days I long for it and yet, when it arrives, I'm not sure what to do with it, how to be it or sit it, or quiet it still.

But I need it.

And when the stillness is longer than I planned, when God seems silent because His words have stilled, isn't this where I reach a blind hand in faith to know He's still there, even if I can't seem to feel His fingers.

It's like our Texas trees, when the sky has stilled it's rains with drought, roots desperately search deeper waters under brown grass. A hidden work of ripping through new dirt to just find a drop of living water.

Our survival depends on it. The sometimes dormant stillness of our faith seasons can feel like a winter-ed soul shut inside, frozen by the absent awareness of an active God, hibernation besetting our hearts under layers of stillness. Waiting, praying or not, begging or beyond even trying, searching to only stop, because it's all there, a stillness so strong, you must painfully wait the next season.

Trees rest, grasses give up their green, perennials drop away from life, for the still, dormant time needed to grow. But then spring surprises us with its buds of sun-filled blossoms and lures our hearts to come and smell the cup of Hope rising with the temperatures....then we know.

Being still has supernatural qualities.

But even better, being still is the way our awareness is acutely affected by His presence and all the more beautiful once we sense Him springing in our hearts. And when we embrace the daffodil blooms, the redbud's unfurling, the dogwoods' wispy whites and pinks, when we look to the hills and see where our Help comes, then our faces shine in His glorious rising.

And we want to still this moment too and just bask in this embrace. The seasons rotate their cycles and He's still creating, still changing, still speaking, still moving, still looking, still searching to and fro, still waiting, still sending His Spirit to plant new life so that our hope resides with this Counselor who's a most gentle, and faithful Gardener of our souls. Even if my finite mind can't find the edges around His infinite ways, I know one thing is true, He's still here, always.

at Lisa-Jo's AND {in}courage