pebbles

 

There’s a man in a white house who seeks to manipulate everything to his personal gain, whose behaviour has made the world a more dangerous place. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I don’t even possess one single, solitary say in the land where he lives.

What I can do, what I did do this morning, is take shelter from the storm in God. To hide until the storm is past—one day, the waves the man is making in the world will have ceased; but the storm within me can be calmed much sooner. A child in their safe and secret place.

And so, this morning, I sat with God—in God—in silence; in prayer, which is a state of paying attention, of becoming more aware. We sat, together, God and I. And, like an autistic child with his pebbles, I took out whoever came to my mind and held them there, on my palm, to show God, ‘Look, look how utterly wonderful this one is!’ And in the silence shared between us, God simply said, ‘I know, I KNOW.’ Not, ‘I made them’—no need to take credit, though in fact God did make them; no need to take anything away from my wonder. And then, like an autistic child with her pebbles, God held out whoever came to God’s mind—and to be fair, they would not have come to my mind had God not shown them, for God’s collection of (unlikely) treasures is far greater than my own. But there is a level of trust there, between two persons, safe enough to show the other what matters most to them, which is usually beyond words.

And in the world beyond, I could not tell you what, if anything, had changed. But a storm had blown itself out. And that is why I need to return to this place on a daily basis in this stormy season.

Peace be with you

and also with you.