Learning to Be Still

"Listen," our little friend says. He presses one small finger to his lips. "I hear something. A bird." His eyes grow round and his body grows still.

Isaiah goes silent, too. He wants to hear what his friend heard.

Two small faces turn upward. The other three boys move ahead.

We are on a nature hike with friends. The weather is kind and mild for January. Bright sunshine pushes through winter-bare branches. The sky shines cloudless blue. And five little boys appreciate nature.

God revealed strong in creation.

We listen. Walk a bit more. Hear  water rushing and bubbling under glass- thin ice. Smile over moss, still green, on the bark of a tree. Find a brown leaf bigger that even the oldest boy's hands.

Then we climb a short hill and find a flat parcel of land. The boys sit, whisper-quiet, and peer into the ravine below.

Days like this are gems. The frienships, too.

And as I sit and settle beside the boys, cold from the ground pressing against the backs of  my legs, I'm grateful for the Creator.  I'm grateful for creation. And I'm grateful for those in our lives who encourage us to be still and know that He is God.