Friday, June 3, 2011

Another Frozen Moment Filled with Gifts

The computer is still down.  I miss my pictures.  A picture is worth a thousand words, so they say.  So are my not quite a thousand words worth a single picture, a moment stopped in time?  Or rather, can my words paint you a picture this evening?  An hour ago the power went out, and so I sit in the fading gray darkness of dusk, unable to see much.  And I listen.  I listen and begin to count. First, I hear silence.  Deafening silence.  No buzz of the air conditioner.  No hum of the refrigerator.  Real, true, silence.  What a blessing.  What a gift.  A cold supper is eaten, and as darkness falls within, I move to the patio.  The fireflies are making their appearance, flitting about in the growing darkness.  Sight is hindered as daylight fades and so again I listen.  A thousand sounds around me, a thousand gifts for which to be thankful.  The hoot of the owl, deep and mysterious.  The cicadas’ song, slowly fading with the light.  The chirping crickets compete with the buzz of the cicada.   Songbirds, more than I can count, each sing their own unique goodnight.  A dog barks far in the distance.  Closer to home, the young rooster is trying out his voice in a weak crow.  I flinch for a moment, startled by the noisy flutter of bird wings in the tree overhead.  The faint voices of the girls float across the acres from the garden where they help Daddy weed.  The occasional car passes, breaking the symphony of yard sounds.  A limb falls to the ground.  I can hear as it hits a branch on its way down.   What is it I need to hear tonight?  No phone, no lights, just peace.  Calm.  I know there are projects waiting to be completed.  Let them sit.  I know I have things to do - but I have no control, and I cannot do them in the dark.  Somehow, in the light, I believe that I have some measure of control.  I think that I make things happen.  I believe that it is within my power to accomplish what I set out to do.  But in the dark I must acknowledge that it is not me.  It is not within me to do anything.  I have no power.  I have no control.  I have only the ability to accept what He offers me, and to offer my thanks for each moment I am handed.  I feel the call to pull inward in order to listen.  I once again want to freeze time, to live in this moment, to breath in the heady scent of the night, to revel in the delirious feeling of embracing the Holy Spirit; accepting that the only thing that really matters is that I grow to become one with God. Each day He offers me the opportunity - if only I can slow down  long enough to hear and accept it. 

181. quiet, uninterrupted by the sounds of busyness
182. owl calls in the dark
183. thrumming melody of cicadas
184. songbirds
185. kids digging in the dirt
186. rides on the four-wheeler
187. the new baby bunny rabbit in my garden, even if he ate my rosemary down to the roots
188. the feathery leaves of dill
189. darkness
190. heavy, humid Southern heat 
191. fireflies dancing in the night
192. quiet in the soul, stillness within
193. no outgoing email, the chance to pick up the phone and connect
194. letting go, acknowledging the truth that I am only pretending when I think I have things under control
195. peace of soul and mind, when you acknowledge you are not in control, you no longer feel the pressure to keep up




4 comments:

Matushka Anna said...

It's funny, but as I lose my hearing (slowly), the ringing in my ears grows louder. It sounds like faint cicadas. Two things: (1) I've learned not to take things like hearing for granted and (2) I'm blessed that I've always found the sound of cidadas soothing.

But be grateful you are able to hear real silence. It's been a long time for me and I wish I had appreciated it more when I had it.

flowersfortheteacher said...

Such blessings... I think I like this format better... I think :)

Michelle M. said...

that is beautiful. I've tried to start a list of gifts, but I keep forgetting to add to it because I leave it on my nightstand. I need to remember to bring it downstairs. The kitchen would be a wonderful place for it.

Margaret said...

Thanks so much for taking time to write this! And thanks to Matushka Anna also for taking time to comment. God bless all you do! Margie