It's quiet now. There are no more bumps and thumps, no more evidence of other people inhabiting the house in which I live. Doors have been closed and lights extinguished. Heads have been laid down on soft, downy pillows. All I can hear now is the quiet hum of my laptop, the tapping of my fingers as they hit the keys, the heater on the other side of my wall producing a low droning noise as it pumps out warm air. And outside, the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops as they plop against the roof and my window-pane. It's a lovely sound. Much lovelier than the angry wind, which whistles loudly as it shoves its way past, rudely shaking the trees and shrubs in its impatience. Yet together the wind and the rain make a sort of music together. One compliments the other, at times even giving each other a turn for a solo before the other enters again as though part of a symphony. I don't know much about music, or how orchestras work. I don't need to. Tonight I'm captivated by the music outside my window. It's beautiful.
Sometimes we need to stop and take a moment. After all, what would our lives be without the time to enjoy the small, seemingly insignificant things? Life get's busy. Hectic. It's important to find moments in the everyday to breathe. It uplifts us. It takes us from the mundane and ordinary to the precious and extraordinary. Tonight, my moment to breathe has taken the form of listening to the beauty of God's outdoor symphony. What's yours?
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