THE PAGER OF CHAOS AND MR. BASIL
The quiet authority of stillness.
In August of 2009, Marty took this photograph in our garden. A praying mantis had taken up residence in our basil plant. Every morning he would be there. Not hiding. Just waiting. We started calling him Mr. Basil. If I extended my hand, he would crawl onto it as if he had been expecting me. No rush. No alarm. Just calm presence. Watching him felt like a quiet conversation.
Stillness is not emptiness.
It is awareness.
And sometimes the most important thing a person can do —
is stop.
DEDICATION
To the Holy Spirit — the quiet presence that speaks clearest when everything else goes silent.
To Marty — who captured this moment in 2009 before either of us understood what it would one day mean.
To my sister — who stirred the thought that became this reflection.
And to every person carrying a pager they never asked for — may you find your way back to still waters.
SCRIPTURE
“He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” — Psalm 23:2–3 (NKJV)
THE HOOK
A praying mantis can sit still for hours.
No rushing.
No scrambling.
Just awareness.
And when it moves…
it moves with precision.
THE STORY
Marty once said something about Mr. Basil that stayed with me.
“He hangs in the green.”
Everything he needs is already there.
Food.
Cover.
Life.
Yet he still chooses a higher point in the plant —
a place of quiet awareness.
He blends in not to prove anything —
but so he is not exposed or distracted.
He waits.
He watches.
And when the moment comes…
he moves.
The rest of us tend to do the opposite.
Drive.
Push.
Respond.
Hurry.
Busy has become a badge.
“How are you?”
“Oh man… I’m buried.”
“Swamped.”
“Pedaling as fast as I can.”
There was a time I had my own line.
“I’m a banana on a monkey farm.”
A long line of monkeys trying to get a hold of me.
People laughed.
But underneath the joke…
was something real.
Chaos had become normal.
THE MOMENT
For years I wore a pager.
Twenty-four hours a day.
If something went wrong at the plant, that pager went off —
and wherever I was, whatever moment I was in…
I left.
Dinner table.
Deep sleep.
Holiday afternoon.
Didn’t matter.
When the pager beeped, I jumped.
I used to call it the pager of chaos.
Years later the pager disappeared.
But something quietly replaced it.
A phone.
Now the interruptions weren’t emergencies.
They were expectations.
Calls.
Texts.
Emails.
Alerts.
And slowly something changed.
The pager warned me when chaos arrived.
The phone taught me to live inside it.
Then one morning I was holding Mr. Basil in my hand.
Perfectly still.
Not rushed.
Not reacting.
Just present.
And it hit me.
This tiny creature understood something I had forgotten.
Stillness is not weakness.
It is awareness.
And if your life is moving too fast — it can’t catch you.
Peace doesn’t run.
Peace waits.
THE TURN
Slowing down changes the atmosphere around you.
When you are not rushing through the grocery store, you notice someone asking about your dog.
When you are not staring at your phone at the gas pump, you compliment someone’s car.
When you are not filling every second, you actually see people.
Presence has weight.
Your pace lowers the pressure in the room.
Your calm gives others permission to breathe.
There is humility in slowing down.
There is leadership in peace.
There is strength in stillness.
Peace does not chase busy people.
It waits for still ones.
THE DRIFT
There is a voice that keeps you moving.
You’ll rest when it slows down.
Just get through this season.
You don’t have the luxury of stillness right now.
That voice sounds like responsibility.
It isn’t.
Responsibility knows when to pause.
Drivenness only accelerates.
There is a kind of busyness that looks like faithfulness on the outside —
but is just fear wearing a productive coat.
Fear of what you might hear in the silence.
Fear of what you might feel if you stop.
Fear of who you are when the doing finally stops defining you.
That noise will keep a person running —
long after the pace has cost them everything that mattered.
I know. Because I ran. For years.
THE REFLECTION
Mr. Basil never chased anything he wasn’t ready for.
He positioned himself well.
He stayed alert.
He trusted the green.
And when provision came — he was ready.
That’s not passivity.
That’s wisdom.
The soul was never designed for the pace most of us carry.
God didn’t lead His people beside rushing rivers.
He led them beside still waters.
Not because He couldn’t handle the current —
but because He knew they couldn’t be restored in it.
Restoration requires stillness.
And stillness requires trust.
Trust that if you slow down, the world won’t fall apart.
Trust that presence matters more than productivity.
Trust that the One who leads you
also knows the pace at which you were made to walk.
Mr. Basil knew where he belonged.
He hung in the green.
And everything he needed came to him.
WALKAWAY LINE
Stillness is not the absence of purpose — it is the posture of trust.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT
When was the last time you were fully still?
MY PRAYER
Heavenly Father,
Slow my heart when it races ahead of Your will.
Turn down the heat beneath the pot of my life before it boils over.
Teach me to value presence over productivity.
And people over pressure.
Restore my soul beside still waters.
Lead me in paths of righteousness for Your name’s sake.
Give me the wisdom to recognize when hurry is stealing the moments You gave me.
And remind me that peace often arrives quietly —
when I finally stop running.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
ABOUT G~
G~ writes from lived experience — exploring identity, authority, and time through the lens of faith, trial, leadership, and surrender. His reflections are not meant to condemn or hype, but to steady. Rooted in covenant, forged through adversity, and anchored under the authority of Jesus Christ, his work invites readers to examine who governs their lives — and to live intentionally under truth.
If what you’ve read resonates with your journey, feel free to reach out.
G~