It is time for bed. The house is dark. Children are quiet. Even Facebook is not buzzing on my phone with
updates and posts. For the average
person, after 10:00 equates bedtime.
For me, however, Thursday
evenings are my favorite time. I do not
work at Weldon tomorrow which means after I drop off my children at school, I
actually have a moment of peace. What I
have discovered, through the years, is that during the day, when the sun is up,
even though I am technically, “free,” I always find things to do: meet friends
for coffee, read a good book, work in my garden, tackle a project for work, etc…
Thursdays have since become my
night when I stay up late.
Real late.
It’s the one chance in my week to
be absolutely still and completely quiet.
I crave Thursday nights.
With no
immediate meetings in the morning, or projects requiring high-functioning brain
activity, I can allow myself to have a “foggy” morning. By Thursday I can feel I have become anxious
and restless; I am in desperate need of my time of silence.
At night, when the world is
quiet, I can dive into an introspective pool of thoughts and swim deep. With no one to jolt me out of my quiet, I can
float motionless letting my reflections linger a little longer than usual and
drift deeper into my contemplative abyss of thought.
I am frustrated that I only have
one time in my entire week to experience this abundant and overwhelming quiet
and peace. My Friday’s are always better
than my other days. Is it because it’s
Friday? Or is it because I finally had “rebooting”
time?
I have tried so many times to
have these quiet moments in the morning to no avail. My mornings are a
rush of activity and thoughts for the day ahead of me. Even if I try to be quiet, the swirls of
activity going on around me make it impossible to completely put my guard
down. At any moment, someone will need
me. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I sit and
read my Bible or connect with God in some way, but it is so different in the
morning compared to my Thursday nights of quiet.
In the mornings, I am preparing
myself for my day; putting on my armor, so to speak. At night, my armor is off, my
guard down, my day is over and it is just me.
Simply Connie sitting before the throne of God being quiet and
still. No agenda. No requests.
No prayers. I am not assembling a
list of things to accomplish, or tasks I must fulfill. I don’t bring theological debates or
complicated theories. It is not a time
to think analytically, but instead to let the Holy Spirit breathe life into me.
I love the quiet of night.
The second verse of the Bible
(Genesis 1:2) echoes my feelings, “And the earth was without form, and void;
and darkness was upon the face of the deep.
And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.”
That word "moved" in the original Hebrew means more accurately, "hovered." It is dark and I have no
structure or reason as to why I come before the Father, only that I know I need
the Spirit of God to move upon me; hover over me- to fill up my cup and refresh my spirit.
Thank you, God, that you look
forward to Thursday evenings as much as I do.
