Lately the rhythm of life has felt more like a two-year old pounding out an incoherent melody across the black and white keys of our piano. There has been little gentleness as each day has unfolded, instead the moments have whipped, lashed, and railed in their furious attempt to unfold leaving me perplexed.
Where is the gentle summer breeze?
Where is the soft pitter patter of rain?
Where is the fun and carefree lazy afternoons?
Despite my questions and my longing for gentle days I find myself deeply grateful, becoming more aware of God as my refuge. Someone that I can climb into, stow away deeply inside of, and someone that will withstand the most furious of storms. He is my unchanging. He is my rock. Every single thing that happens comes through His hands first.
So it would stand to reason that He would be the One.
The One that will shield me. The One that will protect me. The One that will comfort me. The One that will forgive my sins. The One who will teach me, instruct me how to walk, dance, jump, kneel, pause, run, and cling in the midst of the rhythm He sets forth, no matter how furious and fast the beats may come.