There is something to be said for the emptiness of a train station. Quiet ... alone ... reflective. I write this with my eyes closed ... the tv off ... All I hear is the whrr of the ceiling fan and the clicking of the keyboard. Perhaps Teddy will take a breath. I have been craving this quiet ... there has been too much noise of late. In the desolate station I can sit and be ... and in time restore my senses. The Psalmist has it right:
God makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
God restores my soul.
It is in the quietness ... the withdrawal that our souls are restored.
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