I always thought of a “quiet Time” as something that helped you connect with God in the morning, and hopefully it was of good enough quality to sustain you through the day. If it wasn't enough, just get up an hour earlier and devote that much more time in the morning (yeah right, I'm a total slacker and would be all grouchy and complaining and totally nodding off by 9:30) AND THEN, it would be enough to get you through the day. It probably is great discipline and people who do that are AWESOME, and I Epically Suck, but for me to do it would sound a lot like a “formula for faith”. If I spend “A” much time doing “B” good thing, then I'm “C” all good with God and can go about my business. Yay Me!
I have what has been clinically diagnosed as an Attention Deficit Hyperkinestetic Disorder, which is “fancy talk” for ADD. Environmentally quiet times are some of my most difficult times to try to focus. My mind is racing. I think the reason I talk so much is an effort of trying to keep up with a racing, random train station of thought. Trying to go to sleep used to be the absolute worst, until I had the aid of medication and ritual. Being still in the quiet place, in my experience, is more of a challenge communicating with God than being at a Phish Festival.
A few years ago, I was driving my daughter home from a birthday party at night. I was in our neighborhood when I saw a couple walking with two dogs walking ahead of them. I didn't pay too much attention. Two people walking their dogs, presumably on leashes. Well, one of the dogs (a cute little dirty white westie mix) ran into the street and darted in front of my car (“darted in front of my car”-that's a stupid expression. Where the heck did that even come from?). One of the people who were walking called out to the dog. It didn't respond, and I hit the dog. I was horrified. My daughter was traumatized. The people walking were freaked out. I got out of the car and started immediately apologizing all over myself for running over these people's dog (from here on known as Fifi). As it turns out, neither of the dogs were on leashes because, they weren't their dogs. Ni either dog had a collar. I wasn't driving fast enough to kill Fifi, so he had scooted its little (probably crushed) behind to the side of the road with it's little front legs and lay it's head on the curb, panting, with a look of excruciating pain on it's little doggie Fifi face. I didn't know what to do. The people went home, and I'm standing in the middle of the road with this fatally injured dog. I don't have a dog. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it. Luckily, a family stopped and asked me what was wrong. When I told them what had happened, they got out, wrapped Fifi in a jacket and took him to an animal clinic. Now, these people are CLEARLY way better than me, and I could go on rambling of their greatness and nobility, but this isn't their blog, it's mine. And you're thinking, “Heck yeah, she's ADD. Fifi? WTF?” But what struck me is how even though someone called out to the dog in an effort to save it, the dog didn't respond. This voice was not the voice of it's master.
Perhaps there is where the discipline comes into play. Not a formula for checking a box and being 'all good', but daily, hourly, minutely communicating, in some way, with God so that, through the noise, you recognize His voice. "Be Sill and know He is God" means that when things are crazy, loud and overwhelming, I can Know he is God, so my heart can be still. I don't believe God speaks in the quiet. I believe He always speaks, Even in a disorganized, noisy mind, I'm just not disciplined enough to always hear Him.
This post is dedicated to the memory of Fifi
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