The train is stopped dead in its tracks and dead on the road before me. It stretches from one side of the town to the other and I drive up one road and down the other trying to get through.
Finally admitting defeat, I sit and wait.
My phone is a constant buzz.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
And then, “Should we just heat up that grilled chicken for dinner?”
“Maybe you could help dad book us a motel,” my mother texts.
And then, “Never mind. My flight might get me in earlier than I thought.”
My fingers type quick.
The train inches off the road.
I slam frustrated on the accelerator and I’m not sure why because where I’m going has no time commitments, no responsibilities.
Nothing but open air, dragonflies darting, and miles of paved trails for jogging.
Parking my car, I tighten my running shoes and grab a bottle of Gatorade. Stretching my legs has never felt so good and the sun is behind me and nature is before me so I run like I’m escaping everything.
My mind, a constant whirl, slows.
But my phone in my pocket doesn’t. Not even a quarter mile down the trail, it starts beeping. Constant badgering. I clamp my jaw in annoyance. The messages keep pouring in.
Slowing to a walk, I read the texts. Not a single one is important.
Standing there, I make one of the tiniest little discoveries and it’s just a little switch that turns my phone off and after flipping it, I feel disconnected but then I start to run and I can think again so I think about neuroblastomas and how they’re found on the adrenal glands and no, no, that’s the pituitary that secretes the thyroid hormone and goodness, aren’t our bodies fearfully and wonderfully made.
My mind slows. Turns heavenward. To the Creator who communicates best during silence. During solitude.
I watch the dragonflies, the worried skitter of a rodent, the way the wind makes the tree branches sway and wildflowers dance.
This moment, breath deep and long, heart strong and sure… are my green pastures and still waters. My heart weeps for all the times I’ve missed them in the past, these nourishing moments where nothing matters except Him and I, together, talking or not talking at all.
It’s the closest thing we have to heaven this side of eternity and yet we ignore it, answer the call to a busy, noisy life instead.
Legs shaky, lungs exploding, I lean against my vehicle. And the thought comes. Startling. A warning:
What about you, friends… how do you make sure you walk beside the still waters on a daily basis and not allow the noise of technology and life get in the way?
Linking this with Jennifer Lee today.