When I am alone, I appreciate silence. It is not uncommon for me to sit alone at home, no television, no music, in my rocking chair, and rock. In silence. When I was a pre-teen, my family referred to it as hibernating.

Telephone rings (Back when it was still attached to the wall in the kitchen)
“Hello? You want to speak to Brandi? Hold on. I’ll get her. She is hibernating.”

I DID have a rocking chair in my bedroom, by the way.

However, my mind is never silent. It constantly considers, examines, connects, and analyzes. The thoughts are like the chaotic notes of a tuning orchestra. Most of the time, I can pull something out of my mental noise that I want to share. A connection that I perceive. A lesson that I have learned. An experience that I hope will encourage, inspire, or amuse. An unexpected place that I have found hope.

The last three weeks have been dry. I don’t know if it is a lack of mental depth or an ache in my heart that keeps the random notes from organizing into a decipherable tune. Possibly both. Probably both.

I began to wonder, am I failing? I’m I being lazy? Am I not reaching enough people with the hope that God has given me to share? Do I not care enough? Have I become (more) self-absorbed?

“Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!” Psalm 46:10

Be still. Be still, My child. Your instrument does not have to play constantly. Sometimes, it is enough to only KNOW. I will be exalted even in your silence. My truth will still be heard. And your song will play again when I free you to compose it. For now, just be still.