for you are my tower of strength. Psalm 31:4
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I say to my daughter as she exits the car, heading for her trumpet lesson.
I intend to go and sit in the waiting area. I have brought work with me so I can use the time well. I just want to return one phone call before I go in. I dutifully make the call, only to reach voicemail. I realize I have no message to leave, so I simply disconnect. And then I just sit.
I have work to do. I should go in. But the late afternoon sun has warmed this winter day and it is pleasant in my car. I choose to be still. And as I slow into this time and place, the world around me slows as well. I become aware of my surroundings, notice the play of light on the bare tree branches. I hear the faint thump of a basketball coming from the next drive over, a teenager enjoying this afternoon’s respite from winter chill. I see the neighbor walk to her mailbox, checking for anything that may have arrived, then lifting her face toward the sunlight.
I should go in. But then I realize I haven’t stopped all day. So I stop now and give myself entirely to the moment. To rest. To reconnection. To thankfulness. An entire world exists beyond my calendar. And as I settle in to the quiet, I feel the cords that have entangled me slip away. I hadn’t even noticed they were there.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2013
