To Replenish

    What I need now is quiet time.  I have brain-rushing time and sink-splashing time and clothes-spinning time, but I rarely have soul-searching time.  When mornings were shared by me and God, my father offered some advice--advice passed down from his father: "Two hours to study the scriptures?  Relish that.  Because I'm lucky if I can find ten minutes."

    I never thought I'd have to limit myself that way--my precious two hours cut to ten minutes.  But now, I check off my personal devotional time if I can squeeze in an ear-plugged talk on my walk to school.  

     I miss mornings waking up to the Indian sun, chipmunks crooning outside my windows.  I would stretch my arms to the untainted air and then fold them gently at my chest.  After a short conversation, study time was mine: Never have I searched and pondered so fervently.  Flipping and fumbling and scrunching and scribbling, me and my books worked hard.  Sometimes we answered tough questions and sometimes we sat, still as silence.  After one hundred and twenty minutes, I was always replenished.

    Nowadays, it's hard to find such time for stillness.  And when the cherubs start descending, the quiet will only run farther.  Though I may never get her back, I might learn to find soul in the stridency.  

There is spirit in the social as there is spirit in the soft. 

There is wisdom in the working as there is wisdom in the word.

There is heaven in the hubbub as there is heaven in the hush.