unexpected space

Ice makes the trees sparkle and snap in nature’s percussive melody further north. Crews work to clear the roads and restore power. 

But here in the ATL — blue skies and sunny. Most of last night’s rain is dried up and traffic is moving nicely. For us, all the precautions seem like an overreaction because of last year.  

They made the calls this morning. No 9:45 class. No rehearsal. No evening classes to teach. My schedule today is suddenly empty. But I want to dance. I want to see my kiddos and work on their recital dances. Why did we have to cancel? 

And I realize this discontentment comes from a deeper place. The NEED to be doing something. The addiction to busy. I’m believing the lie that because my calendar is full and minutes organized into a neat little schedule that I’m being productive. 

And I think maybe I’m supposed to “do nothing” today. Maybe I need to stop and soak. To be {still} and know that HE is God. To rest; let my heart marinate in His word instead of settling for a microwaved faith on the go. 

Stillness. I choose to embrace the unexpected space. 

So I sit here, on the couch, in the quiet. My Sari Bari blanket in my lap. I’ve read a few chapters in my favorite book, made progress on my hand-embroidery project. Thinking. Dreaming. Trusting. Savoring the moments.

And I resist the urge to fight. Because when I fight, I resist Grace.