be still and know

tonight the kids were asleep before snuggle time was over.

that doesn't happen {often}

tonight my husband is out playing soccer.

that happens a lot this time of year.

tonight my mind is quiet.

that doesn't happen {often}

i don't feel well, which might be part of it, but whatever the reason(s), i find myself in quiet.

 i am mindful of how my skin is a-fire with the swell of a creeping fever and 

at the edge of the kitchen,

i know there is a decision in this moment. 

i brace myself against the urge to maneuver toward the desk to tackle time-sensitive tasks 

{taking "advantage" of the quiet, of course}

and i set about making dinner, amidst silence.

 no podcast, no music, no phone calls or video chats, no distractions -

just the crisp rustling of the leaves in the breeze

and the occasional crescendo of cars passing on the pavement beyond the open window.

{silence}

except for the smooth and definitive sound of my knife blade on a carrot and

my mind remains quiet, except for the timeless and definitive comfort of a psalm.