You sweep us away like a dream.

The Refrain

Be still, then, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations.

I will be exalted in the earth.

For a thousand years in Your sight are like yesterday when it is past and like a watch in the night. Psalm 90:5

There is no need to set an alarm. I wake up in the stillness like clockwork. I have been doing this early morning gig ever since I starting trying to beat little three-year-old Anita to the punch. Finally I just started sending her off with Cindy to milk goats so I could have a few moments. To sort through which day it is and what the plans might be. And my list of beloved souls. One by one to lay each plan, each hope, each child of God before the feet of the LORD God Almighty.

And each day pounds itself out five minutes at a time. I can do anything for another five minutes, I whisper to myself. 

In the evening it is dried up and withered.

Be still, then, and know that I am God.

Actually Nicol’s first word was chivo as well. And I would send my not-quite-toddling child off with the neighborhood kids to play with the baby goats while Mencho and I did the neighborhood prayer walk from the stillness of our living room table.

And each day pounds itself out five minutes at a time. I can do anything for another five minutes, I whisper to myself. 

In the evening it is dried up and withered.

Be still, then, and know that I am God.

Little Andreita was glued to the loving hip of Hernando as he spread his kindness throughout the old ranch house. I still have all of those tattered prayer journals, somewhere.

Where oh where have the years gone? 

And each day pounds itself out five minutes at a time. I can do anything for another five minutes, I whisper to myself. 

In the evening it is dried up and withered.

Be still, then, and know that I am God.

Jenny found another amazing gift for me again at the downtown Artisans’ Street Fair.

In the lower right-hand corner kneels a woman in prayer, still and at peace.

And before her lies the seemingly arduous pilgrimage, up, up to high places. Lots of steep staircases. A few green pastures of gentle rest. But even more dark tunnels with no light at the end of them.

Yet at every bend an angel stands. Ministering Spirits. On watch. Alert. Strong and able to comfort and protect this little wandering sheep.

And this morning I knelt into today’s true perspective, and how indeed the days fade away into nothingness, the smashing crashing days whose ripples settle into a quiet blur, a dream that can’t quite be caught.

Be still, then, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations.

I will be exalted in the earth.

Last night Everette and I sewed together a purple lace dress for Berry, her little teddy.

But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother’s breast; my soul is quieted within me. Psalm 131:3

Stillness is a choice, again and again.

Be still,

And the word for February is I purpose to engage… And being still doesn’t necessarily mean kneeling on my floor, waiting.

There can be a centered stillness as I step out each day and engage. And while I don’t think it’s quite time to engage with the clashing outside world, I can purpose to really engage with the eyes and heart of each of my kiddos.

Man, it is so easy to get caught up in the daily broken computer keys and coming up with a new seating chart and discussing schedule changes and should we have three periods of study hall a week for seventh and eighth graders and there went another planning period and calling or emailing parents not often enough and Saturday school lists of missing assignments because the end of the quarter is almost here and oh, yes, she has been out all week with strep throat and I have to get her homework out to the front desk by lunchtime and all of those stacks and stacks of Vietnam Era tests and kiddos researched The Presidents powerpoint presentations while I worked on my own The Middle East Conflict in 18 easy slides or less and works cited still like they have never seen it before and Acceleration lab journals and To Kill a Mockingbird essays and what is an allusion and Journey poems peer revision sheets and all of my grades were supposed to be loaded up onto the buggy website two days ago but I was busy judging the spelling bee yesterday during my first planning period and cutting out little squares of construction paper for very stressed out students to gluestick onto their boards during lunch and today is the science fair and the other middle school science teacher is amazing and she organized TEP and U of A and Raytheon and Arizona Desert Museum and Reid Park Zoo where she used to work to set up exhibition tables but it’s going to be a crazy late night and don’t even getting me started on how Arizona is changing its teacher certification policy so I have to wade into producing original sealed transcripts once again and forms and long lines and more checks made out to AZ Dept of Ed and I still have to figure out how from Tuesday’s professional development meeting how to hook up my iPad to my promethean board that never quite works right and utilize it every day in class for instructional purposes.

Be still.

And purpose to engage with the eyes and hearts of each one of my kiddos.

Selah.

Be still my soul; the LORD is on thy side.

For God alone my soul in silence waits; truly, my hope is in Him. Psalm 62:6

Truly.

And in every which way possible, I am a chatty person. Not in the good sense.

One of those sorts of people who always raises her hand first with my answer or especially blurts out my answer while everyone else is processing.  Before my brain and heart even engage.

In conversations I have to pause, take a deep breath, and choose to listen rather than let my mind gallop on ahead to where I am going next.

And oh, those imaginary conversations that hamster wheel around in my head, spinning and spinning into empty anxiety.

But the heart of the call here deals with my stepping into the Throne room of grace, standing before my LORD God in full bore prattle.

Full of excuses. Accusations. Murmuring. Suggestions as to how He could be doing a better job. 

Be still.

Take off your shoes and fall on your face, for I AM Holy.

Be still.

In silence wait.

Stand back and you will be amazed. 

And wild and sweet the words repeat.

Do not fret yourself because of evildoers; do not be jealous of those who do wrong. For they shall soon wither like the grass, and like the green grass fade away. Put your trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and feed on its riches. Take delight in the LORD, and He shall give you your heart’s desire. Commit your way to the LORD and put your trust in Him, and He will bring it to pass. He will make your righteousness as clear as the light and your just dealing as the noonday. Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for Him. Psalm 37:1-7

There is a low-grade fretting accelerando in the background noise of my mind and soul. And my spirit.

A harsh staccato has twisted and tangled itself into the peace and joy and good will of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

And the normal sweet clutter and mild angst of Christmas in America with lists to do and Amazon reviews to scan and quick pop-ins to Buffalo Exchange and rushing out the door holding yet another towel-wrapped two loaves of bread and a Trader Joe’s bottle of wine just a little bit late to the next event has an intensified pounding percussion section of blaring headlines of fear and hatred and finger-pointing.

Americans are more fearful about the likelihood of another terrorist attack than at any other time since the weeks after Sept. 11, 2001, a gnawing sense of dread that has helped lift Donald Trump to a new high among Republican primary voters, according to the latest New York Times/CBS News poll.

In the aftermath of attacks by Islamic extremists in Paris and in San Bernardino plurality of the public views the threat of terrorism as the top issue facing the country. A month ago, only 4 percent of Americans said terrorism was the most important problem; now, 19 percent say it is, above any other issue.

Really?

And I allow my eyes to be wrested away from His lovingkindness and power to stare at the impending gloom loom with a sneer over all of those sun-faded Nativity scenes.

And in despair I bowed my head:

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth,good will to men.”

Be still.

Stillness is a bit elusive. NPR radio has already clicked on at the Voelkel house. The dishwasher is sloshing. And a faucet is dripping somewhere.

But all of the glass in the picture frames and window frames and gold-gilt mirror frame reflect sparkle lights back and forth and back again. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Charly and Marcus are coming this year. And Wali. And Cameron. And Elizabeth from Mexico moved in yesterday. And she loves the sort of awkward front bedroom, the one that Rogelio says is visited at night by a woman who walks through the walls, and she already up, about to run around the park after she eats a tangerine and an apple.

And. And. And.

But Giovani’s star shines stretches out from the top of the tree.

Buon Natale.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Be still.

The St. Francis fountain in the greenhouse splashes. Or was that one of the tilapia in Alan’s big fish tank?

Be still.

 Till, ringing singing, on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,

Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Be still.

Be still before the LORD.

The LORD God Almighty.