It’s been another whirlwind day. I try to live in the moment. To enjoy peace in His presence. But the order of the day is hard and fast and I can’t help but feel pressured by the pace.
“We need to finish your science,” I say to Gabe as we sit in our schoolroom. “When we’re done, you’ll have ten minutes to pack your bag for swim club. Your suit is in the bathroom. But your goggles? I’m not sure.”
Gabe nods and goes back to his work.
I sit by his side for a moment and then think about the mound of dishes that has grown high in the sink. And the dinner that has yet to be made. I’m not sure if the load of swim towels has dried.
Lonny and Isaiah will have more time this evening than the rest of us will. They’ll be off to soccer. But right after an early dinner Grant be out the door for work and Sam, Gabe and I will head to the pool.
“I’d better start supper,” I say. “Gabriel, you work on this page.”
As I head to the kitchen, I stop to check the towels in the dryer. I see Isaiah’s soccer uniform in the basket on the floor. Unwashed. I’ll have to run a fast cycle.
The whole day seems like this–a too-fast cycle.
A few minutes later, I’m in the kitchen. Scrolling the events of the evening through my mind. On nights like this things have to be synchronized. Timed just right. One movement off-chart and the house of cards will crash. I pull the stock pot from the cupboard, and it’s then that I hear the sound.
Music.
Soft and sweet.
Gentle and slow.
Beautiful.
Samuel is in the living room. It’s the time of day that he practices guitar. And I’m familiar with the chords he’s playing. It’s a song by J.J. Heller, “The Boat Song.” The melody is sweet. The sound of the guitar is pure.
And the gentle goodness of it moves my spirit.
The calm simplicity reaches into my soul.
I leave the kitchen. The impending dinner. The stack of dishes. The things to do. The stress. And I take a chair in the dining room. Samuel plays on. He doesn’t see that I’m there. His head is tipped, watching his fingers. I’m lost in the beauty of this boy. In this moment. In the music that has become a salve to my soul.
It comes naturally to begin to sing the words, softly, and when I do, Samuel looks up.
But he keeps on playing.
Oh Lord, I love the way you stop me in my stress. The way You wash over me, into me, with grace and love. The way You penetrate my presence and pull my heart to a peaceful place.
Samuel finishes his song, and I glance at the Roman numerals on the grandfather clock in the corner. There’s still dinner to be made. Science to finish. Swimming and soccer and a hundred other things. It’s just life.
But it will all get done, and I’m settled.
I’m thankful for this moment the Lord has given me. For a few moments to breathe. To listen. To live without worry. My senses have run like a river to a deep place, and I’m grateful that the Lord reaches into to my life in such personal, peaceful, and powerful ways.
Thank you, Lord, for this grace.
