Still, Small Voice

I push through the glass doors of the office and step out into the sunshine. The day is still blessedly warm, unseasonably for this time of year. Almost unconsciously I shake my hands at my side, shaking off the pressure of the day.

As I walk I inhale, improperly I know, but in the way that I need to at this moment. My chest, not my diaphragm, expands and I allow my shoulders to rise and I inhale the sweet September afternoon air.

Once, twice, three times as I walk toward my car I fill my lungs with life.

The temperature inside of the car is hot; the digital gauge reads eighty degrees. As I smile at the idea of this heat at this time of year, the air conditioner kicks in to bring it down to a more comfortable seventy.

I plug my iPod into the auxiliary jack, and the smooth, velvet sounds of Il Divo performing Hallelujah fill the car. I turn up the volume a bit, wanting to be blanketed in the music.

Stress continues to fall away.

At home I greet the dogs who are ecstatic to have me home. Their greeting is like food for my weary soul this afternoon. I know that Gerry is going to home late this evening, so I don't worry about supper for the moment. Instead, I take the dogs and we go out into the back yard.

I pull a chair over into the sun and put my head back, basking in the therapy it brings. As I sit I pray. There are people and situations on mind that I lift up in prayer. Here and there, this and that, one thing leads to another. As I pray I relax, comforted in the thought that there is Someone else in charge.

Eventually I am quiet. I sit, looking at the beauty in my yard, filled with gratitude, and at peace.

And then that still, small, voice that I know so well speaks and reminds me of something I have been reminded of before.

"In repentance and rest is your salvation; in quiet and confidence is your strength." (Isaiah 30:15)

In that moment I am all of these things. Repentent, at rest, quiet, and confident that all is as it should be at this very moment.