still

i remember when i was little and i would lay in my bed and listen to the silence of a still home.

when it was dark and i was alone. that's when i could hear everything. every tick and tock. every tap and knock. (that was a pretty sweet rhyme)

i remember reading way into every single thing i would hear. my mind would over process every noise presented. surely there had to be an explanation for these noises. i never heard them during the day time.

i never heard them in the day time, 'cause i was too busy.

it was in the stillness of the night that i was the most vulnerable. in the stillness of the night that i heard all there was to hear. the moving water sound from the dishwasher. the button of someone's jeans clicking against the dryer.

we complain about Jesus never talking to us, but we don't silence ourselves. we don't still our bodies long enough to wait on him.

we are calling constantly, but leaving before we get an answer.

i think i'm going to go stare at my ceiling until he shows up.

see ya around.