Knowing . . .

 photo by Ian Britton

I am sitting at my desk in the kitchen, cup of hot coffee steaming beside me and the smell of cinnamon waffles in the air.
I have been up since that time just before the sun rises over the horizon. At those times, and in the evenings after the sun sets over the rim of the earth, the snowy world outside is bathed in blue light. It is breathtaking, and for a minute, I have to remember that I am still on this planet.
Today, I walked out into the cold blue morning, and listened to the sounds of the world waking up. I breathed in the sharp air.
I was still.
And I knew.
God is God.
Now, back inside, Daniel is still sleeping. He has been sick with ear infections and stomach virus. He had to have blood drawn yesterday. He was quite brave, I must say. I am hoping his little body is healing as he is resting.
The boys are off to school.
Joe is at work today.
Ahhhhh. It is just me and my coffee.
I hear the ticking of the clock, the whirrr and click of the ice maker, the birds outside my window chirping out a stark winter song. The heat kicks on. Music plays softly.
I am enjoying things I usually do not hear, for all the other seemingly constant noises in our house . . . boys chattering and bantering and whining and making the noises of war and space and just plain silliness; phones ringing, the  t.v.'s empty talk.
It is nice to sit in quiet for a moment. To breathe and think about the day ahead and what I have to do in it.
I am able, if just for this short time, to be still.
And I know.
It is easy to know that He is God when the waters are calm, still, peaceful.
When all the mechanisms of our home are working, and our children are asleep or safely off to school, and our coffee sits so near, and we can sit and breathe.
But I know this, too.
That even when there is noise and chaos and sick children and broken appliances and the laundry threatens to become it's own entity and eat us, or when I am insanely busy, or inconsolably sad, or miserably at odds with those I love, or unavoidably facing strife, He still IS. God.
See, I am learning that the stillness is in me.
Because God is.
No matter what is happening around me.
Because God IS. Here.
And when we know that God is God, and who he is -- our loving, just, holy and sovereign father -- all the raging seas around us cannot cause one ripple in the still lake of our hearts.
The sun is up now, blinging brightly over the snowy surfaces, and so is Danny, smiling up into my face, melting my heart.
I must go begin this day . . . make breakfast and give medicine and face down the laundry pile and  . . . and . . . and . . .
But no matter what happens today . . . I know God IS God.