Sometimes there is nothing like silence.
Good, peaceful, absolute, still silence.
The kind of silence where you sit and drown in the quiet, resting the weary body and mind, and for once you can actually think and reveal in undisturbed thoughts.
I love these moments though there few.
In our home silence is unseen for when there's a little boy or a carpenter under its roof the mouth does not sleep, the noise knows no quiet, and the brain desires no boredom or stillness.
Living adhd is being constantly surrounded by thoughts, emotions, actions, and ramblings and its sporadic and genuine and enlightening and exhausting and its none of your own and all of theirs. It always runs, their mind and brain, it never quiets until there's the silence of night.
And moments of quiet are soaked in these dry, thirsty bones.
God knew they were needed these adored, sincere instances of silence. Its a cup of cool on a parched tongue, a shaded tree from the heat of the day, a hallelujah, amen in its own way.
Silence blankets the house, rooms are dimly lite, darkness shows under the closed doors of the children's rooms and for once they stayed in their beds, their little voices full of song finally drifting off in quiet.
The crickets chirp and their sounds wander in through open windows happy to play a song for falls warm night.
Dim the light. A days work has been done and to say it was good?
If the mind were to rethink the days events it would turn up empty in many places, too fast it sped, too many things would have to be redone, too few moments of what I wouldn't give up or trade.
Too many repeats. Day can seem like repeats if there's no celebration in life, if there's no shouts of praise, no spoken words of Spirit, no faith in in the race.
The wrist flung faster and faster as potatoes were peeled for dinner. Skins flew across the counter as I quickened the pace of the wrist. How much easier it would have been to tear open a pouch, pour, and mix? How much time it would have saved? How much peace would have been gained? But yet, how real?
Real takes time and sometimes I would just rather give it up and opt for the easy, semi real, good enough to get by blend.
But real, it makes the mind think how real this all is the still, peaceful, here and now. The crazy, glorified, chaos of real. I would rather have real, then the semi-real life.
It drew me to question how real was He the maker of the still quiet? How real was God to me? Just a name that I knew and prayed and thanked but yet how real? For something to be real it must be uncovered, it must be felt, it must be tasted, it must be learned, it must be seen, it must be lived, it must Be Spoken, it must be Known.
How real is God in my life? As real as the rare peaceful moments so sought for? But for Him to call me by name? God must be real and I must be real wholly, flung open, humbled, fully surrendered, willingly laid bare, to see His face.
To seek God is to hunger and thirst for righteousness, to live God is to Speak His Spirit, to praise God is to glorify and give thanks, to fully see God is to Know God.
Knowing God, really knowing God is an immerse of the whole self into everything that Speaks His name, "Yahweh." Its a fight of the fleshly self to see deeper, much deeper than a worship song sung on Sunday, much deeper than a prayer whispered in need, much deeper than a verse skimmed over for the week.
God is only as real in your life as you make Him to be.
To say it is good at the end of the day is to know the Maker who holds this being in His palm, who won't let this shattered and torn soul wander, who gently reminds that "this is the day, that He has made for me and to rejoice."
To say it is good and that end of the day is to know that my redeemer lives and because of Him I live and He is good and He beats this heart and carries this family and while there is breath say that "it is good" even when its hard and life is saddened.
To say it is good at the end of the day is to walk hand clasped to the One who yes adores His children flaws and all.
Making Him real in the day is how it's all good.