Still small voice in the small places

So many times I feel a tension between the busyness of life and the desire for quietness and stillness.  I picture the craziness in front of me (it looks like work, family, finances, schedules, and life in general, in a sort of whirlwind type thing) and there I am trying to push those things aside in an outward motion to allow a clearing.  Then, instead of stepping into that cleared space to experience peace, I get overwhelmed by thinking about what should fill it and the whirlwind of life takes over once again enveloping the space I worked so hard to make.  It is a vicious cycle that has me caught between the craziness, and the desire for simplicity and the need to just be. 

What if, instead of feeling like I need to clear the brush and push everything aside to make space, I allow the quiet and stillness to infiltrate the wee pockets and the cracks in between the busy and crazy things?  I wonder if allowing God in whatever way, shape or form into these pockets and using the all ready naturally created space will bring relief and let me experience life.  Maybe the freedom to experience quietness, stillness, and simplicity lies in the small places of life and not only the large spaces we sometimes feel obligated to create.

Moving on

Can someone please let me know where August and September went?  In the busyness, I thought often about when and what shall I write about?  It is not due to lack of things to share, but what to choose.

Among the many eventful things that have probably happened, things that I may or may not remember at this moment (State Fair visits, crazy work schedule, moments of self discovery, deep thoughts about life . . .), there is something that remains very vivid in my mind.

On a Wednesday, while my family ate lunch, a gun was shot on our street and the bullet entered our home and travelled across the living room and dining room.  It lodged in a wall a handful of feet away from my family.

Though an event like this is not uncommon to most of our neighborhood residents, it was very foreign to us.  In an all ready challenging and somewhat negative living experience, our safe environment (our home) suddenly didn't feel safe any longer.  On top of this, my husband was caught in, not one, but two drive by shooting situations.  Is this a sign?

That afternoon, directly following this event, I was scheduled to attend a meeting for work.  It was a meeting in the neighborhood with an organization doing great things in the area.  It was an interesting experience as I found out that our home fell within the area known as "the zone."  This zone was identified by city officials as the highest crime area in the entire city.

A representative of this organization began his segment by talking about stereotypes that people in the suburbs have about the inner city and joked about how he had never been shot at.  I felt so conflicted sitting there having just experienced a bullet flying through my home.  All of my stereotypes are being reinforced on a daily basis and it is challenging to process this.

Unlike most residents, we have options for leaving and, as teens are being shot and killed almost weekly, we intend to take advantage of this.  As our neighbors below us are constantly smoking weed (and we reap the [non] benefits of the smell wafting into and stinking up our house); and our other neighbors break all noise ordinances and see stop signs as optional, we cannot wait to move on and live a safer, more life-giving . . . life.