Learning to Be Silent

Between husband, oldest son and me, we managed to keep the puppy, Sai, occupied all day long today.  No long naps lying in the sun beside oldest son’s chair while he reads or watches television.  We kept him outside “playing” (translated, chasing and terrorizing), Lucy, barricaded on the porch to watch the bicyclists ride by, or chewing on the end of my broom as I tried to sweep the kitchen floor.  Tonight, I can type on my computer, as he sleeps beside me on the couch instead of climbing all over my chest or trying to eat my chin or pull my hair.  He is adorable, but such a pest.  Like most puppies, he is into everything and must be watched every moment to make sure he doesn’t chew the rug or eat a paper napkin.  It makes me wonder what life will be like when the puppy that I placed a deposit on last November before Sai arrived and before she was even born arrives in March.  A gift to me from me, Summer’s cousin, another Chesapeake Bay retriever will be delivered on my Fifty-Fifth Birthday.   If the little turd, as I affectionately call Sai is still living with us there will be no rest for any of us with two puppies in the house.  And Lucy will certainly be insane.  Or I will.   Maybe I already am.   My life been insane as work is in its busiest time of the year, and I juggle responsibilities of job, church work, house work and doctor’s appointments.  There are some stressful happenings at work that I have been told not to speak of or to lobby for change.   2013 and my impending birthday have also brought some strange unexplained symptoms that have the doctors stumped and require me to slide in and out of the MRI tubes about the same frequency as the puppy has to go outside to pee.   Of course each test requires a five day wait while my insurance company reviews my doctor’s request.  I imagine a roomful of bean counters checking their adding machines and casting lots over who gets the test and who doesn’t.  And again, I am not to complain but wait patiently for someone else to make the decision about what I am allowed to have.    One thing, other than the fact that my brain has been declared healthy, is that whether I am sitting on the couch wrangling a squirming puppy, zipping my lip over newly or about to be newly adopted policies at work, or curbing my desire to wring the neck of an insurance coordinator, there is something that I can do, I can pray.  Through these 40 days of prayer as I work my way through Draw the CircIe, for this season, God is calling me to be silent and to watch Him work.   The harder I pray, the more He tells me to be still.  Which is not hard to do when you are squeezed inside an MRI tube.