t’s been a busy week (again) and I seem to have caught a bug from one of my favorite grandbabies. (I have 5 grandbabies, and exactly five favorites!)
Anyway, I dug this out of my archive from last February. It’s about the circus, which didn’t come to Birmingham this time–or anywhere near the South, for that matter. It seems like it was a busy time last year, too.
Maybe I need to practice what I preach.
Nevertheless, here is a piece from 2/5/2025.
The circus came to Birmingham last weekend after an eight‑year hiatus. We didn’t make it this time, but just knowing it was back stirred memories—vivid, colorful, larger than life.
I remembered our trip in 2016, when we drove to Atlanta to say “farewell” to the elephants—our daughter’s favorites. And I remembered my own childhood in Northwest Georgia, when the circus meant our annual pilgrimage to the Omni in Atlanta.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear the classic announcement: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls…” I can smell the livestock, taste the cotton candy, and feel my fingers frozen around a rainbow snow cone. I see my sister and me waving those fiber‑optic flashlights with unrestrained joy. It felt, truly, like the greatest show on Earth.
At least until 1982.
That was the year the beautiful aerialist—who swung high above us, suspended only by her hair—fell. Her clasp slipped. The colosseum froze. For the first and only time I can remember, complete silence fell over the crowd. Immediately the clowns and elephants rushed the ring, creating a wall around her while medics worked. She survived—and even returned to her act years later—but that moment has stayed with me.
It’s strange how memories work. You can go years without thinking about something, and then suddenly a sound, a scent, or a single image brings everything rushing back in full technicolor. Sometimes those memories are gifts—little reminders of where we’ve been and what has shaped us. It is good to remember. It is good to sit quietly, letting our thoughts settle into what Wordsworth called “pensive mood.”
But lately, my mind has been anything but pensive.
It has felt more like…a circus.
Three rings, all active at once. Trapeze artists swinging. Clowns blasting from cannons. Motorcyclists zooming inside the globe. And the ringmaster singing improvised songs made from words people are saying to me. (Okay, maybe that part is just me.)
I’ve struggled to focus. Blank documents have stared at me for hours. I’ve tried walking, drinking water, limiting sugar, tackling chores, searching for inspiration—anything to quiet my mind. Nothing has been working.
Until one morning, when I turned on the radio.
Not a podcast. Not talk radio. A contemporary Christian station–something I rarely listen to, because I am always trying to maximize productivity. (As if.)
As the lyrics drifted through the room, my mind began to clear, layer by layer. And suddenly a familiar verse rose up inside me, gentle and steady:
“Be still, and know that I am God.” —Psalm 46:10
Be still.
Not just sit down. Not just stop moving.
But be still—in spirit, in mind, in heart.
I wanted to argue–I have been still!–but the peace was so sweet, so unexpected, so grounding, that I simply let it wash over me.
Because the truth is, in the striving and juggling of daily life—the information overload, the pressure to perform, the constant hum of responsibility—we forget to be still.
We forget that The God who is not only with us, but as Scripture says, is before all things, and in Him all things hold together (Colossians 1:17).
It’s that “before all things” that catches me.
Before my plans.
Before my schedule.
Before the anxieties and expectations for the day–God is already there.
He knows the beginning and the end of my day. He knows what I hope to accomplish, but He also knows what truly matters. He knows the things that overwhelm me. And He knows how to quiet the circus when I cannot.
Maybe you’re in a circus season too. Maybe your mind is juggling far more than your heart can hold. Maybe Peace feels just out of reach.
If so, turn on a worship song.
Hum an old hymn.
Let scripture wash over you like a calming voice that says,
“Be still.”
Be still…
and remember that the One who goes before all things
is fully able to hold you together.
And in that stillness–I pray you catch a glimpse of the God whose presence outshines even the greatest show on Earth.
