Thursday, December 4, 2008

Dearest God,

I have entered that mystical season, the season of roots, looking at them, deepening them, grabbing hold of nutrients and nourishment that give me life. The cold weather begins it for me. As I have to cover up, putting on my coat, hat, gloves and scarf, I can feel the air changing, calling for a new season. The quiet outdoors whispers to me that something new is coming. Not distracted by summer equipment, mowers, weed eaters, trimmers and electric pruners, no children playing or swimmers with their loud music, the quiet has come into its own. The quiet has so much to say in the late fall and winter.

I find myself standing at the window looking out. The bare branches, blowing leaves, and strewn sticks and weeds in the garden tell me to let go. It's time to let go of external work; the time has come for the internal. Like bears who hibernate or animals that make shelters underground it is time for me to crawl inside, to take my rest, to listen to the voice that calls to me this time of year.

It is your voice, dearest God. Now, you have my attention. I can sit and listen and wait with expectancy.

Darkness calls
to me
each morning.
I don't
have to have
the light
to know
all is well.
The quiet
and the darkness
bring a calm
to my soul.
Sweet serenity,
tranquility and peace
enter my soul
in the
early morning hours.
Whose voice
would I want
to hear
more than yours,
dear God?
I wait
all year long
for this time.

Love, Andrea