Through Stained Glass: Dancing, too

The trees are singing.

Dancing, too.

Thunder rolls in the distance, and an indigo sky turns navy. The flowers on my lilies and hibiscus plants are setting in and calling it a night, as they usually do. The candle on my little patio table couldn't withstand the force of the wind, and it too has called it a night. Chloe, the Queen, has as well. On her throne, she sits wanting nothing of this storm or those fireworks. Tecumseh, the General, is making the rounds sniffing everything he sniffed ten minutes ago. He returns to my feet, reporting that everything is decent and in order at the homestead.

Meanwhile, I'm taking a risk and remaining outside to type this post. The signs around me are all indicating that it would be wise to take everything inside, but still, I sit in my short-sleeved shirt just so I can feel the breeze on my skin. I have bemoaned the heat and the humidity—and I often complain about the nosey air conditioning—which is why I remain out here beneath this dark, low hanging sky. No stars. No moon. Nothing really to see, only touch, smell, taste, and hear. Is this what it was like "In the beginning…"?

Breath/e.

The breath of God. I need Her inspiration. Our world needs His breath. I am listening for that still small voice amidst the strong winds and the wailing leaves. I remember the story from two Sunday's ago, though. The one about Elijah hanging out in the cave. 

Wind. 

Fire. 

Water. 

Chaos. 

Nothing.

Until the silence.

However, I want that Word now. I wish Wisdom would whisper to me while the storm is happening at this moment. I want to hear that Sustaining promise promptly.

Ugh. 

Trust the process. Let God do God's thing, right? 

I guess I need to go to the Tree of Life and pick some more 'patient' fruit. While I'm at it, I'll pluck some kindness and goodness, too. Some friends brought me the fruit of Love and Joy this week. First, the love—children at our drama camp talking about EMPATHY! Then the joy—students entering into the chaos of community and trusting the process.

Of course, I didn't really recognize those gifts until, well, I got home and waited in…

silence.

Just before the trees started singing.

Dancing, too…