Encouragement

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Still, Small Voice
by Cathryn flowers Ritchie

It's hard for me to be still. There is a restlessness that pushes me. I feel like I'm running and can't slow down. I struggle to understand the difficulties of these last months.

On the same weekend that my family braved through a Florida summer hurricane without me, I was in Colorado, for the burial of my father. So began weeks of confusion. My circumstances hadn't allowed me time to grieve. I found myself surprised by bursts of sorrow and at other times, a sadness slowly crept upon me. Besides my personal grief, several family crisis and physical infections sidetracked me. I realized my body and my soul were exhausted. I needed a balm and instead, I felt myself alone, in a desert of dryness.

At times being alone is not pleasant for me because I get too lonely. But this day I felt I needed to be alone, to rest. The house was quiet. The sun suddenly shown through a slit in the window blinds,straight into my eyes. Though the Florida sun is often too hot for me, I found the warmth soothing. It produced a still and soft quiet.

As I sat there, I began to reflect on a friend's words from the previous day,”You need to sit and wait for the still, small voice of the Lord" I don't like to sit alone, I don't like to be still, I don't like to wait.

Resting in a comfortable recliner, God reminded me of His graciousness and goodness that had surrounded our family during our months of crisis. He reminded me of His balm that had been with me, His presence that was bringing shalom/peace to me.

Even in the midst of the pain, He showed His face continually. Friends calling from across the States and around the world. Christian friends gave hugs, wrote notes, brought meals, came to sit with me, and said, “How can we help?” All were Jesus in our midst.

I felt reassured that though the waters had swept over, I had not drowned. In my mind I saw a vision of people’s hands being lifted in prayers, their faces streaked with tears, and heads bending low and sighs and moans echoing my pain.

As the sun shone in, it hushed me, bringing sleep. It felt like my heart was broken. It hurt so much. I thought that if I looked down at my skin that there would be a bright red-black-yellow bruise. It hurt so much. I guess love does sometimes.

I slowly awoke an hour later. There was no bruise, nor any more pain. I’d been restored not only by physical sleep, but also by “I AM”. I had not been alone, for during that hour someone very present had stilled and refreshed my soul.

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