Hush

Many days I don't feel cut out for life here on earth, haunted with questions I can't find answers to.

Do I measure up?
Is God pleased with me?
Have I done enough?
What is God doing?
Where are we going?
What is my next step?
How can I live a life pleasing to God and man?
What does God expect of me?

I follow the dictates of my world in perfect Martha fashion, staying busy, productive, pushing forward. But no matter how much I give, I'm left disappointed, understanding my part in God's grand scheme is so small. If not me, He could have used someone else.

I yearn for tranquility, for peace in my own mind, for no expectations from myself or others. I long for the quiet of a dark night, a sacred stable, the wonder of a baby full of promise and hope, a physical, touchable, present form of God's love. I want to rest there, like a little sheep no one notices or needs anything from. I want to ponder with Mary, to feel tiny fingers wrap around mine, the only distraction being the low braying of the donkey outside.

Isn't this the spirit of Christmas, the awe, the stillness, the promise wrapped in flesh? Isn't this what I'm missing every day? Isn't this where my spirit wants to reside?

But my abode screams, "Buy! Do! Go! Achieve! Succeed! Impress!" What I crave--the quiet, the peace--is so far from where I live. Should I be surprised to feel weary, weak, worn? I do my best to press on, to rely on God's strength, but often I bring my beaten self, peppering Him with questions, begging to know it matters, to do it right, to discover His heart.

He says, Hush, Tami.

No more questions. Stop thinking, stop trying so hard.

Hush, My child.

Just be with Me.

No questions. No thoughts. Nothing, but . . .

Rest.

Hush . . .

Be still and know that I am God . . .

Psalm 46:12

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