Learning to Listen

My world is loud. My email constantly demands my attention - three different accounts for three different reasons. My job revolves around communication and social media, the deadly noise of an electronic culture.

We've forgotten the value of letters and phone calls, the connection that comes with face to face. We've forgotten how to have a conversation longer than 140 characters, and we sure don't remember the bond developed by vocally sharing the depth of our thoughts, our hearts.

I remember a crowded beach in California. Surfers rode the waves, entertainers lined up around the boardwalk, and this misplaced Texas girl walked with my group enjoying the show. About sunset, I found myself alone near the water, the waves roaring in to kiss the shore over and over. All other noise dissipated, and I truly listened.

I see my Creator in the waves and the ocean - His power, His gentle nature, His vastness, His beauty. And I can hear His still small voice in the waves that lap the sand, asking me to drown out the other noise and just listen. He speaks in the quiet moments. He answers when I truly surrender.

With no beach nearby, I'm learning to find my ocean moments in the roar of the big city. He speaks most when I commit to listen. And I'm tired of the noise. I'm sitting on the shore, listening to His voice whisper in the waves.

Linking up with other writers at Lisa-Jo's today!

Hiking Columbine Trail

Fall

The trail wound too close to the edge of the mountain. My foot kicked a pebble loose, and it skittered over the side. I avoided watching it's wake, scared to lean over. We were the back group in a crew of thirty, the others racing to the top.

My camera remained a ready friend in my hand, capturing every moment of the beauty. Mountains rose all around us, a tribute to the strength of my King. We rounded a corner into the most beautiful crag in the rock, full of flora and fauna, perfect for exploring.

That's when it hit. A raindrop. Then another and another. We heard the group ahead of us begin to yell as the sky blackened and lightening flashed. A mountain is not the safest location in a Colorado thunderstorm. Our leader came sprinting down the trail, the others in her wake. Water wound down the red mud, sliding beneath her feet.

"Get off the mountain. Get off the Mountain. Lord, get all these students off the mountain safely," I heard her whispered prayer as she whipped past me. My friends and I began to run, now more concerned with the lightening than the proximity of the edge. Water ran like a stream between my feet, and I began to laugh, a rough year of college bleeding off with the refreshment of a summer storm and the adventure of a Colorado mountain hike. As the potential of falling off the cliff increased with the deluge, I had no fear.

I fell more in love with Jesus in that storm.

"Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge Him. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth." Hosea 6:3

Linking up with other writers at Lisa-Jo's for Five Minute Friday.