She talked me through, and spoke me to still. From the top of my head, right down to my toes... relaxing every bit of my soul, along with shoulder and hands. It may have lasted two minutes... perhaps three. But when I opened my eyes, I felt centered and fully relaxed, warm from the sunshine her words spilled over me. Still. I admit that I don't do that enough. Or at all.
My heart believes I live it... and maybe I do, in certain instances. But am I ever really still?
I watch TV and my hands are itching to pick up a crochet needle or scroll through the computer. I drive... and I sing and plan and dream. And when I dig in to the bible and pray? I am talking and talking... even as I know to stop. And listen. His voice is so much more than mine.
And in this sickness, that has gone on far too long, I am stirring. I need rest, but my mind won't. It picks apart the why and the how and the why not and the what abouts... I cannot even leave the healing to the doctor, because my gut is talking. Or is it just me? Not being still?
The more I stir, the more I know... that still is the sunshine to my soul.
today i'm linking up to Write it, Girl...