The Wind That Listens

When the noise swells
and my thoughts scatter like papers in a storm,
I reach for stillness—

In my daughter’s smile,
in the weight of her resting on my chest,
like she knows I need her more than she needs sleep.

My husband’s voice finds me,
low and steady,
reminding me I’m not failing—just feeling.

I whisper prayers when the house is loud,
when my soul is louder.
Sometimes I don’t have the words,
but God hears anyway.

And when all else fails,
I step outside.
The breeze moves through me,
not just air—but presence.
The wind that listens.
The wind that speaks.
The wind that is Him.

Author's Note:

This piece was inspired by my entry for Day 4 of the journaling challenge hosted by Josefina H. (@loveoffering on Instagram). I missed yesterday’s prompt—intentionally—because once a week, I try to step away from the noise of my phone and root myself in what’s right in front of me: my daughter’s laughter, my husband’s calm, and the quiet voice of God that lives somewhere in the wind.

This poem poured out like breath—like a prayer I didn’t know I needed. On the days I feel undone, grounding isn’t always about silence. Sometimes it’s about being still long enough to hear the Spirit whisper through the ordinary.

Thank you to everyone reading, sharing, and walking through these reflections with me. It means more than you know.

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Let’s keep listening for the wind.