I was a young mom and it was one of those days. Sick kids, a dirty house, carpooling, and an impending party–among other things, overwhelmed me. I stomped through the house with a basket full of dirty clothes on my hip.
That is when I first heard the voice: “stop and get on your knees.”
I tried to ignore it. “No!” I screamed inside, “I do not have time.”
I kept moving, kept fretting, kept pushing to get ten hours of stuff done in six hours. “I can do this! I’ve got to do this” partnered with “I can’t do all of this! How can I get all of this done?”
I felt my skin crawling, my fuse shorten. My jaw was clenching to keep from yelling at my kids who were just being kids.
“I. Don’t. Have. Time.”
More clothes. Empty the dishwasher. Return the phone call. Wipe the nose. Change the diaper. The washer stopped. “Oh, I have to go to the store. Remember the ice. I’ll stop on the way to the school.”
“Stop and get on your knees…”
“OH, OKAY!” I said sharply and aloud. He [God] wasn’t going to let up. So I put down the laundry basket and got on my knees and dug my elbows into the ottoman.
My obligatory prayer was discombobulated: “I’m just doing this because you told me to. I have no faith to believe it will help because, the reality is, I just have way too much to do in too short period of time. I get that. But, I give you my day. There.”
(I wanted to add, “You happy now?” but that seemed a bit much.)
I got up, grabbed my laundry basket and moved on.
Then, I noticed, about ten, maybe 15 minutes later that I was calm. Very calm. Remarkably calm. How did that happen? How did my day, and my head which had been in the pit, turn and become calm and completely peaceful, and, well, quite okay?
I managed a “thank You.” And I meant it.
That place. That place where, I hear his voice and I know it’s Him. That place where it truly, it is only God and me. That place where I He knows me, warts and all, and he wants me just the way I am. There is where I am safe.
That place where He transforms me without me working;
or even believing.
The place where He not only alters me, but alters the atmosphere.
I love God. I love God because He loves me.
I love him because He shows me secrets. Secrets that even children can understand. Secrets that even dumb blondes can grasp.
I love God because He has shown me the indescribable transforming power of the secret place.
And that the secret place is found on my knees with elbows grinding into an ottoman;
or in a car when He says, ‘turn the radio off’;
or a crowd when I close my eyes;
or on a chair when I push back from the desk;
or a long line when I choose to know He is standing next to me;
or in front of the TV when I shift my eyes away from the screen;
or a park bench where I breathe in. And breathe out;
or on a bed at 3am when all the other voices are battering my brain, and I chose to whisper to Him, “help.”
I love God because he sees me and woos me and then meets me and still loves me.
And He shows me that often—especially when I purpose to go to that place . . . where it’s just me and Him.by