A Sunday Doxology
Glory to the God who
invites me to a place of
as a way of living in this
as a way of choosing calm
over anxiety and angst.
Praise to you, the God who
speaks order into the disordered,
who says, Come.
Live. Move. Have your being
where I am in control.
Still. Always. Forever.
A Saturday Caesura
Water gurgles along the eaves-troughs that border the roof. Wind sighs its way through a stand of sodden trees across the street. The diesel engine of a train and thunder blend their rumbles somewhere not far off.
Listening to the birthing of a storm shifts my focus from the overwhelming tasks of the day to a place of calming stillness. Odd that the growing bluster outside would lead to such quietness in my spirit.
The gentle spit spat of raindrops on the window soon becomes a steady thrumming, then an aggressive attack that pummels window, roof, and deck. The weather app had warned of a severe thunderstorm this evening, but so far the thunder is passive, mostly uninterested in participating in its own event; this storm is about relentless rain assaulting the earth rather than special effects in the sky.
I close my eyes and listen, forgetting about the piles of yet-to-be-organized files and the rising pressure to be prepared for a school year that bodes of endless uncertainty.
Right now, there is just the sound of rain. Steady. Rhythmic. Soothing even in its violence.