Being silent, noticing living things, living. The breath of God flowing within and through as the trees bloom and the sun shines. A quiet appreciation of life. I think about how everything works together, as seasons change. Yeah, the pollen is falling and things get stirred up which brings an element of discomfort, but blooming and growth means life is bursting forth. There is a metamorphosis, things taking shape very naturally, very beautifully coming into form as God creates it to be. Watch it, living things, living! It’s everywhere! Do you notice?
It is in my alone-ness that God and I communicate the best. In the quiet of my evening, when my day has unfolded and my concerns or request are raw and laid bare. As I finish up my day, we talk all while I clean the kitchen or wash my face.
I also like to walk either alone or with my pups in tow. No music or podcast or sermons. Nothing to place my concentration on or distract me from where my thoughts are. Maybe family concerns or things happening with my friends and we talk about it. Even my own personal anxieties or feelings of inadequacy I notice in the quiet. Those I share with Him and He often reminds me of the truth or highlights a lie that I’ve allowed in.
In the quiet I can really focus on where my thoughts and feelings are settling. If I am emotional in certain thoughts and why that particular thought elicits such emotion, the Holy Spirit gently and quietly points out the truth and where it fits or doesn’t fit with who I am.
Sometimes my feelings are strictly based on lack of sleep or hormones. In these I am given grace. Those are physical and may not be based on a lie, but physiology. I remember the difference between eternal and temporary and I am thankful for the temporary and I allow myself to feel it and then let go.
Sometimes I even embrace the highs and lows for a time, to enjoy the range of emotions associated with being alive. It allows me a healthy, honest physiological experience in the moment.
I am thankful for a full range of emotions. I am thankful to my Father for being a woman.
Wynema I Clark
I just heard the most awful sound. The high pitched squeal of a squirrel caught in the mouth of my sweet, but all too quick Bandit. I was mortified I was petrified, while he was basking in the adrenaline that comes from instincts fulfilled.
Between my sweet neighbor and I, we managed to free the little critter from his clutches. I had to call the vet because the sound of that squirrel goes against my nature. It was awful! But it’s completely within the realms of Bandit’s instincts. What he did was natural and to him it was a victory.