Be Still

     We're in our third month of Preschool, and we've (finally) found our rhythm. The first weeks  are always a challenge. Everything is new for my kids, learning the alphabet, shapes, colors, and numbers- and in two new languages! But now, it all seems normal. They've learned basic English phrases and can follow directions more easily. They've also become more comfortable, which means they talk - a lot. :) Now, one or two kids talking doesn't cause much of a disruption. But when you have a classroom of thirty squirrelly four-year-olds all talking at the same time, it gets loud pretty quickly.

      I have to remind them -often- to sit still, and listen. When they are talking or looking around at the things or people around them, they aren’t listening. Which means that thirty seconds after I've given directions, I hear "Miss Katie! Kisa n'ap fè? What are we doing?" Or, they try to do the work on their own, and end up making mistakes.
     This can be frustrating for me, because I want my kids to do well; I want what's best for them. I want them to follow, so they can learn, grow, and be successful. But lately, I’ve realized that God (as he so often does) is teaching me through my Preschoolers. Because I do the exact same thing that my kids do.

    Sometimes, I get so distracted by all the noise in my life, that I can’t hear his voice. I get so caught up in my circumstances, my frustrations, and my worries that I forget to turn to the one who holds them all in his hands. Or, thinking I know what’s best, I plow ahead, without waiting for his direction. And then I get stuck in the mess I've created.

    I forget to be still, to quiet my soul and let him speak to me. I forget that he is my peace in the chaos. That he is my joy even in the saddest times. I forget that I can do nothing on my own. My life is not separated into things I can handle on my own, and things I need him for. I need his help for everything.

    In Exodus 14, Moses says to the Israelites as they prepare to cross the Red Sea, "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." I imagine standing there. An army bearing down on one side, and an impassible expanse of water on the other. It would have been easy, natural even, to be distracted and overwhelmed in that situation. But they trusted their God. They were still, focused on his voice. And he parted the waters and brought them through.

     I can choose to do the same. I can choose to tune out the noise in my life, and listen instead to the still, small voice that brings peace. My God will fight my battles for me. I need only to be still.