Yesterday, my kitchen and dining room was an outward expression of an inward condition. A collection of displaced items, useful items like shoes, books, platters, bowls, foodstuff, mixed with things beyond their usefulness like empty boxes, trash, dead flowers from weekends past, and a grimy counter. None of it required urgent attention, but the mess noisily taunted.
Of course, I could have retreated to my computer to assuage the echo in my head of all the undone to-do list items, like, oh yeah, WRITE A BLOG POST, dovetailing nicely with the burgeoning angst of what will this ever amount to? The restlessness has been palpable, a host of ideas without clear plans to implement, seemingly stalled in the fast lane of life. Clean, write, plan, develop recipes and projects, exercise, read, learn new technology, laundry, dinner (just to eat), and the demands of family all weigh in at the same time. With all these things thrown together without a plan, tackling life is more akin to Whack-a-Mole game than savored living, hence the restlessness.
However, just the day before, the greater need with the quieter voice brought this plea to the forefront, “God, order my world.” I decided I should cooperate with my own prayer; starting the day quietly with my bible, I then began to return each item in the cluttered chaos to its rightful place. No inspired music to move me along, just whispered conversation with the lover of my soul, wooing me to loosen my grip just a little from the cares I held. It did not happen all at once, there were plenty of interruptions–this life I lead is real–but I did not miss the lesson.
In the still, UN-busy and quieted place, yielded before God, I gained the intangible peace and confidence for all else before me. It is not an escape, but a solace–a soul-centering constant–momentary, yet lasting. Whether by drip or deluge, this renews me time and again when my self-imposed, imbalanced struggle for _____ has tipped the scales once more.
It is a simple petition, “God, order my world.” He knows the details of the request. He has watched the fruitless flailing and held-back tears. Waiting, wondering when it will be enough, what will it take for me to relent and yield. It is all right there–peace, revelation, strength, provision, guidance, wisdom–ready for my cooperation with the divine. He has shown me in this stillness is the exchange of restlessness for repose.
As you might guess, when the counter was free of crumb and crust, the last item secured, creativity returned as I imagined what I might cook next. It was okay no post was written and I still do not know what all this will amount to … with my world in order, both external and internal, I am refreshed and renewed for whatever lies ahead.
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