I’m in between assignments, never had this much time on my hands.
I have, perhaps never been so quiet, so quiet I can almost hear God’s plans.
At least more than even before, though not fully I am sure.
The spaces in my mind occupied by busy and angst are uncomfortably new.
I must fill them with something, I thought, then waited and in tiny incremental steps, did one thing knowing God will do the next.
God is always working behind the scenes.
3:45 in the afternoon yesterday and I’m found with time to fill.
I sat poolside with a book and my husband until I’d had enough and three hours still until I’d need to get ready.
I’m goin’ for a walk, I told him and struck out like I do.
Happened upon a feather and I kept it although it was grey, not white or blue, oddly it was habitual, my picking it up, not my typical “totem discovered” enthused.
My music skipped annoyingly so I walked without a beat, a solitary robin above me, lifting in a rollercoaster rhythm through the trees.
I found the camera icon and flipped my phone around only to break the cycle, the fat robin never came back into view.
As if it say, that was just for you, no documenting our time together for others required.
Okay. I see.
This morning I remembered last night’s silent prayer.
Driving home later than usual, I’m in the passenger seat and we’ve been with people and chatter and both agreed upon what my husband calls a “conversational hiatus”.
Big semi-trucks are parked in their resting places in both directions of the interstate.
Their big red lights are dim like a soft sleepy glow. He comments, they’re required to pull over, somehow their stopping to rest is kept track of.
Oh.
I lean back, close my eyes and pause.
I pray remembering the bold request earlier today and then later a subtle satisfaction that the outcome will be okay either way and what I want and asked to come sooner than later might never come at all.
I settled it with God and myself then, okay.
Another person came to mind, someone I’ve no real attachment to, only aware of the seemingly futile reply to her prayers.
Someone I love hurts for someone she loves.
I prayed in a “Why not?” way for them, asking God to intervene, intervene in a way they’ve yet to see, a way that will seal the deal for an end to their anxiety.
For real I prayed, long and it seemed ridiculously up front, for real evidence of stability.
Prayer is a response to a nudge from God, so much more than seeking results or answers.
Prayer, the kind where it seems you’re sleeping, pausing, resting, prayer that comes because you notice God with you.
With you, a peaceful presence.
Pray more I tell myself now. More often, more spontaneously, more aware of God’s nearness and when someone comes to mind.
That’s a prompt, an invitation to conversate with our loving Sovereign God.
Pause to mention the person God brought to mind, ask God to see others more than He sees you.
The bluebirds don’t linger although they come close.
The tiny sparrows perch on the rusty barbed fence. I approach and they dart on their way.
The place that grows the flowers from a newly rain soaked ground is littered with egg of baby blue.
A new bird is learning to fly, leaving behind evidence for me.
For you.
To pray sans ceremony or setting, to pray and be changed and to pray for change to come true and be seen.
To pray continuously.
Continue and believe.
“pray continually,”
1 Thessalonians 5:17 NIV
Lisa Anne Tindal 