She stood looking out the kitchen window, hands buried in
hot, sudsy dishwater.  The winter sky
was bleak with gray clouds scurrying across the sky, blotting out the setting

She felt the pull of
the outdoors and lifted her hands to dry them on the towel that hung from a peg

She gave one, lingering glance at the dishes still setting
in the water and stepped to the door.

The cold hit her like a slap in the face as she stepped
outside, wrapping her arms around her middle in an effort to ward off the
bitter January wind.

It was the quiet that touched her, that deep absence of
sound that can only be found in the country in the dead of winter.  She stood and breathed in the cold air, listening to the silence that seemed to wrap around her in comfort.

She suddenly felt as if she had stepped back in time, to a
simpler place, one of peace and solitude, one without the hustle and noise of

    She absorbed the handiwork of her Lord and Creator, as if she were breathing in the beauty of the bare, snow-laden branches that stood  stark and barren against the sky.  The  gray clouds promised more snow as they raced across the sky, pushed by the wind that whipped around the corner of the house.

As she watched, the clouds parted, allowing the sun’s rays to briefly touch the white ground with glittering fingers of light.

She felt the peace of God fill her heart, assuring her that
He was there, in control of His creation.

She smiled slightly before turning to go back in to those
unfinished dishes.

God was in control and all was well.

© Drusilla Mott and https://drusillamott.wordpress.com, 2011


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