When I am still, there is usually something wrong with me. I'm NEVER still. Even when I'm asleep, my mind isn't still. It races. Here's a peek at some of the thoughts floating around in my head at night:
Why does my chest hurt? What is wrong with me? Am I dying?
I wonder if the guy that lived here before us, died here?
What the heck was he thinking?
I wonder if the cellphone bill was paid for this month?
What is Mooshu dreaming about?
Am I going bald?
What is so hard about cleaning up after yourself?
How big is the rat that's climbing around in the attic? Will he chew his way through to our bedroom?
Hostess is going bankrupt?
As you can see, most of those thoughts are randomly dumb and they are enough to exhaust me!
The last two weeks have been a wake up call for me to be still. I haven't found out the source of my heart pains and other symptoms. The less I know, the more worried I am. I need answers but I also need to be still. I have lost count of how many people have now scolded me and reminded me to be still.
My confession for today....I don't know how to be still. I am restless when just lying here in bed. I feel guilty, worried, uncertain, horrible and anxious.
But, if being still means that I am going to be back to ME again, then still I will be.
I was thinking about when my twin sis and I were little. We didn't know how to be still back then either. One time, we were at a department store and the curiosity got the best of me and I touched the store mannequin and she fell and her HEAD fell off and rolled. Both my sis and I started to cry. My mom did her best to console us but the painful view of the headless lady was etched in my mind. If only I had been still.
Another time, I was in a railroad museum. I was intrigued by a machine that was used to crank the wheels. The sign clearly said, "Do not touch" and it was behind a velvet rope. My hands literally itched from wanting to turn the crank! I looked around to see if anyone was watching (not realizing that there were surveillance cameras) and touched. No sooner had I reached for the handle when a part fell off and hit the floor. I was on my hands and knees scrambling to pick up the part and to find a way to stick it back on without getting kicked out of the museum. I failed at being able to figure out where the part came from so I laid it next to the handle and walked quickly away. A few minutes later, I found the right time to exit but not before catching all eyes on me.
The moral of the story is that no matter how often I fail at being still, there is One who is continually whispering in my ear, "Be still. I am here."
Being still means, not only quieting my hands and feet, but my mind. It means emptying out every single thought circling around in my head. Is Hostess really worth my thoughts? Is the rat that's stomping around in the attic really a cause for concern? (I think so but I'm trying to be still, remember?) So, I'm trying and hopefully, doing my best to be still.
Will you join me in being still? I sure could use some company!
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