Be Still

This time last week John and I were riding bikes through Chincoteague with his parents. His parents were on their nice hybrid bikes that they brought with them from home; John and I were on cheesy one-speed former-rental bikes that we found underneath the house that John's parents had rented. Mine was hot pink with the words "Chinoteague Island Cruiser" imprinted on the frame next to a white sillouette of a pony. I kid you not. Fortunately, I fit right in with all the other tourists, including the surprising number of Amish people who were riding similar bikes with their traditional attire. While I've taken cycling classes at my gym quite recently, it's been a long while since I've actually been on a bike in the great outdoors. I forgot how much fun and freedom there is in having the wind in your face and the world wide open in front of you. I forgot the simple pleasure of movement for no purpose other than fun. As I was contemplating the lost days of carefree childhood, I started to wonder if life only became more complicated because I made it that way. Maybe I don't have to struggle so much to keep my head above water, maybe I can just lie on top of the waves and float. Maybe I don't have to fight against myself and everyone else. Maybe I don't have to be miserable all the time wondering what my purpose is. Maybe my purpose is just to be a child of the Creator of the wind and the waves and let go of my worries and frets about all the other whys and hows of life.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." --Psalm 46:10