The place where the tea is sweet and the world is still.
“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10
I blame it on my daddy. I cannot sit still. At least not in the way you may think. Now don’t misunderstand, I enjoy resting. I understand the importance of being still in my heart and mind, but I do not enjoy being stationary while resting. What does that mean? Well, I love to rock or swing while being still. Please allow me to elaborate.
For my lifetime my parents have had a rocking recliner in the living room. That is my Daddy’s seat. If he is seated, he’s rocking or reclined.
As a young girl, I would climb in my dad’s lap and he would rock. More often than not I would fall asleep in perfect peace, lulled by the gentle back and forth motion and the sound of baseball on the TV. That recliner became one of my favorite seats in the house and when my dad was at work, I’d find myself sitting in his chair. Whenever I was outside the porch swing was my space, not only at home, but at my grandparent’s house as well. Little did I know that one thing in my life would mean so much to me.
Those who know me know that I would rather be outside than inside. I attribute this to my childhood years spent taking in the outdoor air. My brothers and I would play yard ball, ride bikes, hang in the treehouse, build tunnels in the sand pile for our frog family we caught by the pond, or run wild on my grandparent’s land. It seemed that we stayed at my grandparent’s house most of the summer; it was there I remember learning how to act like a lady, mind my manners, speak when it was my turn, and how to shell peas all while sitting on the porch swing there. This was my go-to space. There I sat with my mother and grandmother and there I would learn much about family and womanhood. I thought that swing was my place to take a break from the Mississippi heat – but no – it was actually the place where I would learn lessons about life that would stick with me into adulthood.
My teenage years were met with the usual teenage fears, joys, relationships, and sometimes heartache. I remember conversations with God from my porch swing at home. My dog, Sam, would lay close by and listen as I often prayed out loud. It’s a good thing he couldn’t talk, because he heard every prayer. Many of those prayers were full of frustration, confession, and need. It was the time before cell phones, so a cold glass of sweet tea and my bible were my only companions.
Looking back, I miss those days where the world was seen only during the nightly news, and my friends had to call the landline to get in touch with me. It seemed easier to be still and quiet, and much easier to find mental and emotional rest. During this time of my life I began to understand what was meant by Psalm 46:10.
A week or two before the birth of my firstborn, Luke, my grandfather bought a porch swing for my home. We lived in the heart of downtown Mississippi. Our high school homecoming parade, the city Christmas parade, and the annual races took place at my front doorstep. My sweet Papaw knew my love for swinging and said he wanted his great grandson to enjoy it as well. I couldn’t have known that over the next 18 years that white wicker swing would be the place I would sing to my babies, find refuge as a place for prayer and Bible study, be the base for games of freeze tag, and becomethe perfect spot from which to watch college football, or take a nap on a cool fall day. Friends and family would sit a spell. Conversations there were rich and the time with my Savior was sweet. That swing, like the swing at my childhood home, would see it all - overwhelming joy and the deepest, darkest sorrow.
As you well know, life is full of highs and lows. Things change for better or worse. Kids grow and go. The world continues to turn. Some days bring joy, others bring pain. Through it all there is a constant.
When the Psalmist wrote Psalm 46, he wrote it as a song proclaiming that God is our fortress, a refuge, a place of peace in life’s storms. The command to “be still and know” is given for our good. We can’t, but God can. He is as near as we allow him to be. He longs to give us life and rest from the madness around. He promises not to leave us. He pines after you and me. The only thing we must do is be still, cease striving, and breathe deep his grace. We must remove distractions and draw near to him. James 4:8 tells us, in turn, he will draw near to us.
Today, I type from my new porch swing. My phone is inside. The occasional car passes by. Birds are singing. Bees buzz around the front porch columns. A gentle breeze blows as thunder rumbles in the distance. It is here in the quiet I find peace. It is here I have learned what it means to be still. It is here I experience the still calm voice and presence of my Savior. It is here I am reminded of the lessons learned throughout my life. It is here I give thanks for porch swing moments where grace and forgiveness pour over me and my spirit is renewed by the Giver of life – a life that is abundant and free!
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