Sometimes, God speaks to us in the bright light of day.
Sometimes, God whispers in the still night—when we’re alone or scared or unable to take one more step forward.
Sometimes, it’s really tough to hear God’s voice above the clanging gongs.
And, sometimes, we have to invite God into our silence.

Silence Is Golden

On Saturday, I did something that I’ve never, purposely, chosen to do before. I decided to not talk.

The day started out perfectly normal. Larry was away for the weekend, and I had the house to myself. Vero (our puppy) wanted to go for his third walk of the day. It wasn’t even 7:30 yet (yes, in the morning) and it was freezing outside! After that frigid jaunt, I went to my office to respond to some emails and work on a bathroom remodel.

It was a peaceful morning until I logged onto my Mac and realized that My Mail Crashed! The inboxes were empty, and I had no idea who I should be getting back to—including clients and professional contacts. Did I mention that I’m technologically challenged, or as my friend Alyssa would say, “technologically timid”? Frustration, and a reaction I’m not proud that I muttered, immediately jumped into the party. This was not going well.

I was aware that something big was calling me,
then grabbing me,
then pushing me into silence.
I didn’t know how to deal with it but decided that (literally) God’s will be done.
So, when my daughters, and husband and friends called or texted I simply wrote,
“I’m being silent today”.
Weirdly (at least to me), no one questioned that.

I worked on a story for a business journal.

I opened a new jar of peanut butter and admired the smooth, almost pristine, surface after I peeled back the foil. I decided to keep one side of it just like that—there was no need to take everything off the top. (How often do we just dig right in without thinking?) I wanted to keep part of it “orderly” a little longer. I realized, in that silence—and in that peanut butter—how important order is for me now. I cried when I thought about how my short-term remembering (notice I’m not saying “memory”) changed since the falls.

I read a spiritual book I had started on the plane ride home from Sara’s wedding. It made me cry (again), and laugh, and look at the world through a different lens.

I did laundry and cleaned and organized and watched multiple installments of “Grace and Frankie”. (I cried a lot when Babe decided to take control of how she would die).

My fingers flew across the keyboard. My heart ached and rejoiced simultaneously, as words tumbled out in a breathless stream of emotion and awareness.

I tried to put the puzzle pieces of myself back together but realized that there’s been so much fragmentation that it may never happen. That may not be bad.

I sat on the bed—my mug of tea in one hand, my book in the other.
Emails that wouldn’t be read,
a Mac that wouldn’t be the priority,
tears running down my face and
God knocking on my door, saying, “Remember Me?”

The awareness that God actually came after me struck me with a forceful punch.
God’s tapping me on the shoulder.
God’s pulling up a chair.
God’s going to stay awhile.

Pain, loss, disappointment, and fear circled around me holding hands tightly, determined to be heard, afraid of again being put in a box on the shelf. What choice was there except to be real?

Transformation happens in the strangest ways.

In that silence, I heard a lot. I heard my child-voice still longing for closure to old pains. I heard the fear of growing old and dying without ever “arriving”. I heard the laughter that I’ve been blessed with. I heard myself.

I looked down at the mug—a gift from my friend Maggie—that I held in my hand. I read, “A cup of peace — drink it”. I decided to do just that.

Sometimes, God speaks to us in the bright light of day.
Sometimes, God whispers in the still night—when we’re alone or scared or unable to take one more step forward.
Sometimes, it’s really tough to hear God’s voice above the clanging gongs.
And, sometimes, we have to simply sit with God in our silence.

Blog: peacefullhome.com
Twitter: @kaymclane
Instagram: @peace_full_home
Facebook: facebook.com/kayspeacefullhome