Be Still And Know...

My life normally travels at a speed of about 110 miles per hour. I spend the majority of my life in my car, shuttling from one place to another and my calendar always looks as though several pens of different colors exploded all over it. With a husband and kids, a job, a volunteer position, a dog and a cat, it's a wonder I ever manage to take a shower, let alone find time for just me (and no, time in the bathroom with kids banging on the door shouting questions does NOT count).

But recently, due to two surgeries in a span of a month, I found myself forced to spend time recovering. In bed. Off my feet. Completely. During this time I realized something. Not only do I not know how to be still, I don't really like to be still. I've spent so much time telling myself that when I can just find the time to be still I'll read my Bible more, learn how to listen to G-d, work on that novel I started... You can fill in the blank with about any altruistic goal and I've probably said I'm going to do it--when I find the time. Yet when I was finally confronted with nothing but uninterrupted time, it nearly killed me. I could not stand being still. I found countless little activities to fill the time. I read books, I organized my photos, I watched television. I even played video games!

Now, none of these things are bad in moderation. Some of them are even worthwhile. But the point is that I was doing them to avoid the silence. I was filling each and every moment with something, anything but time spent alone with myself and G-d. What is it about silence that's so frightening? Why is it so hard to just be still, to reflect and to listen for G-d's direction?

It could be argued that, given the fact that I was in a bit of a perscription-pain-killer induced fog, no major life decisions should have been made based on any epiphanies I might have had during that time. I'll grant that. But if I had spent even a little of that time reflecting on my life and listening for that still small voice, perhaps I would have gained some unexpected insight. The point is, I'll never know until I learn to be still.