I was surprised how easy it was to hold still this time. The Darth Vader-like mask was locked over my head, the IV was in and I was squished into the sliding platform with cushy headphones on my ears. Since my head-MRI a year ago, I've spent more time in prayer and meditation. I remember working at holding still, wondering how long it would take. I stealed myself against the loud banging and clanking of the magnetic imaging, trying hard breathe calmly and stay still.
What a difference a year makes. This time, it was more like a new opportunity to meditate. Being still was easy, even relaxing. I listened to classical music instead of NPR and let go of trying to listen to the daily news between the foghorn blasts of the MRI. I turned my attention inward for a conversation with God. Sometimes the machine was so loud it drowned out the music playing in my ears.
"It's awful noisy out there," I offered to the sacred presence within.
"Yes it is," replied God, "the world is a noisy place."
"It's very noisy," I agreed. I thought of the highway traffic that can be heard from our back deck at rush hour. The music seeped into my ears through the hammering.
"But if you listen closely and pay attention," continued the sacred voice, "you can always hear the symphony of creation playing underneath; it's always there." I remembered listening to the birds sing over that din of traffic.
Just like the voice of God in the stillness of a noisy MRI.
The words of Psalm 46 are true: Be still and know that I am God.
"We're getting such great pictures!" the technician announced excitedly into the headphones.
"Take your time," I thought, "I''m listening to the symphony of creation."
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