The Voice in Fragile Silence

Pairing my favorite writing music, Chopin, with the sound of the summer rain, I made my way to the front porch this morning. Picking up my pen, journal, coffee and Bible along the way, I sat quietly waiting for actual words to translate from thought to ink on the page. As the dogs played in the rain (or avoided it all together), the words came in waves like the sprinkle to deluge coming from the sky. Today, this is my time of quiet.

It’s hard to be quiet, not meaning the absence of sound, but the stilling of my mind and heart. I choose to put aside my things to-do, things to think through and things to plan out. Distractions are numerous, roosting in the tree in front of me and singing a siren song of urgency, people, prayers, must-dos, needs, when am I going to-dos, whys, how comes, contingency plans and don’t forgets. Each feathered member of the flock is chirping in my mental ear, saying pay attention to me because I’m important. And, they are – but in the scale of priorities, this must rank higher.

This time is when I consciously choose to seek the gentle whisper of a voice in a fragile silence that is easy to miss. My spirit craves this time, my heart is strengthened by its power. Why? What happens? As I sit here, it would appear to be a time that is nothing more miraculous than the goodness of another day. But, it is when I am quiet in mind and heart I can hear God’s voice best. 

Though not an audible voice, he makes himself heard nonetheless. Like sitting in companionable silence with a friend, this is a comfortable place to be this morning. I can trust the words my friend, my God, says. He waits and encourages me to listen, an act of love. This is where I am stretched and challenged to be more like Christ. This is where I can run when the journey is too much for my strength. This is where I can turn when I am broken over the cry of my heart. This is my place of navigational refocus when I am stymied on which path to take, especially when there are many great options available. This is where I am redirected when I have made poor choices. This is my greatest place of praise, celebrating those abundant everyday miracles.

And the response of that gentle whisper, many times it feels like the answer Elijah hears, “What are you doing here,” from 1 Kings 19:9b. Different emphasis can be placed on distinct words in that question and subtly change the meaning.

                What are you doing here?

                                What are you doing here?

                                                What are you doing here?

                                                                What are you doing here?

                                                                                What are you doing here?

I find my responses to this question come in the same starts and stops as the writing does, as I pause to think through each phrase. Praise, friendship, connectedness, supplication, restoration, protection, hope, the need to hear that voice – The Voice, that is my motivation. That is why I am here.

I say the silence is fragile because it can be easily broken. It demands a discipline and desire from me to actively step away from my calendared, socially connected world of IMs, emails, texts, posts and messages to focus elsewhere. It is time for me to listen and hear from the most important messenger, to hear from God.

Summer Saturday Mornings

I’m not a morning person, really, at all. Bring on the coffee! And yet, most ideal Saturday morning sleeping in times, I am awake and up.  First I enjoy quiet time in the yard with the mandatory coffee cup in hand, and then I head to the garden for some time of weeding and harvesting. 

This last Saturday was no exception.  The beautiful lily blooms welcomed the day with their bright colors.  Industrious butterflies fluttered on the wind like yellow and white wisps. The garden was equally welcoming, the coffee is now in a to-go mug, and I enjoyed the sound of the bees flying from corn tassels to squash flowers to bean flowers.  My hands became dirty, little scratches appear on my arms from moving aside squash leaves, and great excitement builds at finding green beans ready to be picked and bring home.  A few hours later, after removing the pounds of dirt I have picked up from “playing” in the garden, I am ready to really start my weekend. 

Though coffee remains a common factor throughout, it is the quiet time that refreshes my spirit at the start of the weekend.  It is time away from excess noise and wonderful distractions to listen quietly for God’s voice.  The words of the song, Great is Thy Faithfulness, fill my heart.  “‘Great is Thy faithfulness,’ O God my Father,’” sweet words in all seasons and times of day; even in the morning with a cup of coffee in my hand.

Being Still When the Lights Go Out

It was a dark and stormy night when the lightning flashed, the thunder clapped, and the lights flickered twice before fading into a vacuum of darkness…

Okay, that didn’t actually happen.  It is cloudy, and the evening is late and becoming dim.  But the night has not really settled in yet, and there were no dramatic moments – the lights went out in the blink of an eye.  The why and how long of the power outage is still to be determined; in the meanwhile sitting in a quiet and darkening house surrounded by wonderful smelling candles and sleeping dogs is not a terrible interruption to the constantly connected electrical world we live in.  This gives me a chance to put pen to paper, sit in the glow of a pine candle (my favorite scent), and write on what paper I could find using my phone as a flash light.  The paper could be gray or maybe lavender, it’s hard to tell with the low light fading the colors out.  But, in the midst of this outage, I think it would be an ideal time to be still. 

When I have an opportunity to be still, I realize afresh how I crave this more than my routine indicates.  After coming back from a time that involved stillness, I find myself wanting this more frequently.  In the presence of everyday life, my sense of mental equilibrium can apparently settle into something not entirely good because stillness tends to leave me falling into an exhausted sleep.  When I do get a period of quiet, enforced by a power outage though it may be, it can draw attention to the need to be still and regain balance.

“Be still and know that I am God” you say.  Be still.  Still. Still.  Still moving.  Still squirming.  Still yacking about irrelevant things.  Still having conversations in my head.  Still not focused.  Still not listening.  Still not having a mental slow down.  Still trying.  Still straining to listen.  Still settling.  Still need to add that last item to my list.  Still, be still. That is generally when the phone rings, the e-mail arrives, the dog barks, the calendared event starts, or I just fall asleep.  Be still I say to myself!  You are supposed to be still and know.  Can’t I know that God is God while moving about?  This still thing is awfully difficult.  I tend toward curiosity and I wonder why be still?  Why not be quiet and know or be noisy and know – I could probably accomplish that a lot better than being still. 

The lights just came back on.  My thanks to the power crew that is working tonight.  I do like our electrical conveniences.  In the growing darkness though, I did have a moment when stillness started.  After one of the moments the dogs of insisted we go out, I tried to be still.  When I’m still, I don’t hear myself moving about.  I hear the patter of a gentle rain starting to fall.  I hear night sounds as frogs and crickets perform virtuoso lullabies.  I smell the awakening smell of spring warmed earth, new leaves, and the beginnings of spring blooms.  Be still and know. 

Be still is not the easiest thing for me, but I can understand why I need to be still.  I need to hear God and readjust my direction to move forward.  My direction right now is to be still a little more often – it’s like a vacation for the soul.  

From Noise to Quiet

   It’s taken several years, a lot of practice, and literally holding onto my Bible and clutching at the verses inside, but I have learned to appreciate some quiet time. There were the times when, if I was alone, I would have the TV turned up, the CD player playing, and singing along at the top of my lungs. It wasn’t so much that I was afraid of being alone at that time; it was that the quiet got to me. It was so quiet it was loud and pounded in my ears.

   I’m not even sure when it happened; though I do know it happened slowly, when the quiet did not become such a difficult thing. When that happened, I was surprised to find how much I enjoyed the quiet, the relaxing I found inside of it. The sweetness of the quiet, to hear myself think and even better to listen to the voice that urges me to “be still.” Now, I find that I look to turn off the phone, unplug from the craziness of a packed schedule, turn off the TV, and enjoy the comfort of a quiet book on the front porch with sunshine.
   When I find the noise of life filling my “ears” back up I am now more comfortable with the hush. It is a friend, a comfort that is welcomed.

Cardinal Spots

   We had beautiful big snowflakes falling yesterday, so big that they looked like feathers falling out of the sky. On the branches of the trees sat brilliant red cardinals, tucked in amongst the twigs and bark for shelter. They were brilliant red, showing up as crimson feathered spots in the white and brown lines of snow covered trees. With all of that flying snow about, it is easy to focus on the mass of the motion and not on the one flakes movement or what else is going on. The snowflakes are beautiful and I do love to watch them come down. They can also be very distracting.

   There are other distractions I face, some beautiful and some not so, that distract me from those wondrous moments of life. Distractions, those little diversions and commotions that interrupt and serve to either disturb or amuse; they can upset our days with great joy or great frustration. But good or bad, distractions can interrupt our time with God. I was reminded of how precious that time is when remembering a recent time of quiet and solitude. It was just for a few moments, at a January bonfire when I remembered in the quiet the lovely peace of solitude with God. It is not something that has been lost on me, just in the haze of cold medicine and recovering my energy from the cold it was something that was a bit lost on me.
   Maybe I need January bonfires more often, maybe I just need to remember to look past the flurries of distraction to the cardinals perched in the trees.

Snow Quiet

One of my favorite things about snow is the quiet.  It just hushes everything.  So, instead of writing, I thought I'd just share a few of my photos instead.

Seasons and Roadmaps II

   The fall wind has been blustery these past few days. The leaves are being blown off the most stalwart of fall leaved trees and creating a staccato dance across the driveway. The windows have creaked and the door shifted in its frame as the air has moved so powerfully. As the temperatures fall below freezing, it is quite evident that fall is in full swing and winter will be arriving soon. There are many here who do not care for the snow and the cold winds of winter, many who would prefer warmer and balmier temperatures.

   But, just consider for a moment a different view, that of a macro-economist. That view would say that the snow and cold temperatures are valuable because it kills of germs in the soil. We have more productive growing seasons than those around the equator because of that cold.
   So, with that in mind, we have seasons in life as well. There are days when things are balmy and warm. The sun just feels perfect and a light breeze is keeping the temperature nice. These are the days when everything is going well, life is a smile. We have summer.
   There are times when the world changes color, we feel a little dryer, a bit shriveled inside and watch as the color we normally don’t present to the world becomes first and foremost. We find ourselves losing our leaves, bare before the world. We have fall.
   There are times when the snow falls, and though it is beautiful, it is also bitter cold and austere. The silence is loud, and our ears hear everything move. We long for the warmth of a friendly comfort, a soft blanket, a roaring fire, or a comfortable sweater. We have winter.
   There are times when everything seems to be growing and moving. We may be experiencing growing pains, but we are seeing results. It takes work and time, effort and sweat equity, but the reward is visible and wonderful to see. We have spring.
   We have all of these seasons in our lives, many times over. But, the beauty is that there is more than one, and we will move through them to provide growth. Remember the economist, the soil is better for the freeze of the winter, the heat of the summer, the cool rains of fall, and the warming sunshine of spring. We are also often better for the hardships, the trials, and the rests of warmth.

PBS Special

   There was a PBS series last year, or perhaps the year before, where people were chosen to go and live in a recreation of a colonial village, early Texas ranch, or western pioneer homestead. They were put in costumes, given the tools and resources of that time period and then were put forth to fend for themselves. Obviously, it would be a pretty steep learning curve for most of us.

   But, I was thinking about that the other night, when dreaming of Jenny Lake at the Teton Mountains. What would it be like to have a snug little cabin, tucked in among the pines in front of the lake. Open the door and there is Oxbow Bend winding past with otters playing in its current. It might be refreshing to be there, removed from some of the conveniences. Okay, I’ll admit I don’t want to give up all of them. I like central heat and air. I like hot water and washers and dryers. But, I could give up some of it for a while.
   Maybe that should be a PBS special, maybe we should have something where we can remove ourselves from the business of busyness. When else can we stop to think through the beauty of the world around us? When else can we pause to appreciate the beauty of the stars, the joy of the movement of moose through the birches? I like technology, I like connecting with friends and family through facebook, I like the easy way to communicate with text and the handiness of cell phones. But in a moment this morning, I paused to look at the sunrise and wanted a little time to slow down, and appreciate the beauty surrounding us.

Porch

   I am a sucker for front porches, especially when they have swings on them. There is just nothing quite like curling up on a front porch swing on a cool autumn day with a soft sweater, good book, and steaming hot chocolate. But, I will admit that right now I am terribly spoiled by my view out of the front of the house. There are pine trees as well as other types of trees, bright yellow and orange marigolds, and sprawling mint and yarrow.

   But, there are two front porches that really stand out to me. One is in a different state. A bluebird house sits off to the side and has a steady flow of feathered visitors winging their way to and from the perch. Rose buses lined the roadway, showing off their colors to the bees. A swing sits to one side, and from there it I have watched the deer come down the hill and graze in the pasture. Frogs in the dusk start their songs and lightning bugs start their light dance flickering through the plants. Slowly, the sky loses the colors of sunset and black of night seeps in deeper. The stars become visible. The breeze is sweet, the sounds are quiet and full of beauty.
   Another is in the town I live in now. It is on a main road, but is completely framed by flowers. Geraniums, peonies, pansies, and morning glories carpet the street view of the porch. Sitting on this porch, you would hear all of the street sounds muffled through the blooms. I can only imagine the perfume of the flowers on the porch, the colors as the sun plays its way through the stems. I would imagine that it would be a beautiful place to read a book.

The Joy of Solitude

    I used to not enjoy being alone. I would leave lights on and every television turned on for some extra noise. It wasn’t so much not feeling safe as simply not liking the solitude of just me, myself, and I. It can get rather crowded in my brain and without the noise it can seem deafening. It took time to have an uneasy comfort with the quiet, like a new acquaintance that you aren’t quite at ease with. But gradually, we became familiar with each other. My mind would stop it’s whirring and settle into the quiet.

   Then, I had an opportunity of structured silence. There was no talking in this group for a period of approximately twelve hours. For some, this was a very uncomfortable time and darned near impossible. I can sympathize, I’ve been there. But, I found that the silence was very comfortable. I had found joy in solitude. It took several hours for my mind to slow down, to not be searching for many external sounds. When it finally did, I could hear the still small voice speaking to me. Oh, not an audible voice, but speaking nonetheless. “You are my child and you are loved more than you can know.” The voice brought comfort, and hot tears, as I found it growing quiet enough to really think though things, pray over things, and not feel torn in media directions.
   When I left this time of quiet, I found that the longing for that type of solitude continued. Sitting out at the bonfire a few nights ago, it was back to that type of joy. Shhhh! Let me just sit and stare at the flames, sit and stare at the stars. Let me grow quiet and my mind to become unhurried. It is a companion now, a laid-back friend. There is joy in the quiet of the solitude, joy in the quiet that comes with the still small voice. “You are not alone, even in the midst of the solitude.”

Small Towns Small Things

America is made up of small towns, lots and lots of small towns, with a few large towns tossed in for variety. Each small town has some commonalities, but they are all unique as well. Each has its own flavor and personality. There is an incredible cook, an artist, a story teller, playgrounds, schools, churches, and flowers. But, each one is a little different and each is special.

Life is also made up of many small things with a few big things tossed in. Remember that saying a few years ago which became so popular? Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff – and its All Small Stuff. Well, they got it somewhat right anyway. It isn’t all small stuff, and some small stuff shouldn’t be sweated and worried over. There are some great big things thrown in there as well. The majority of my days go by with small stuff, little things, minute gestures, seemingly trivial and insignificant decisions and conversations. Then, you look back over years of the small stuff with a few big moments thrown in and realize, it was all important!
I watched the sky clear over the Mississippi River last night. The rain came and then went, the clouds parted and then gathered again, hanging lower and greyer. Sparrows came and watched from the eaves of the shelter, hoping that there was food to be shared. A light rain pattered onto the pond and was caught in the light. Ducks splashed in puddles and their muffled quacks rang just above tapping of the water rain onto the water pond surface. Small moments, but important - enjoy the small stuff, it’s important.

Joyful Noise

Make a joyful noise! I love to sing and may be found humming around just about anywhere. I have heard many people state that that just can’t sing. But, if you check out the psalm, when there is discussion of praise – it is not to make a beautiful noise, but to make a joyful noise. So, you can’t sing? Don’t like to sing? Okay – what kind of joyful noise can you make? A baby’s first cry to a new parent is a joyful noise. A honking horn to a kid who just got sight of their first car is a joyful noise. Pots and pans banging along with some internal tune is a joyful noise to the toddler. The joyful noise may sound different to different people. Words of affirmation, encouragement, coaching, teaching – joyful noises!

No matter what kind of “instrument” you use, make a joyful noise today.

Take Me Away

Today, my mom is at the Great Banquet. Take away the daily distractions, the background noise of TV, computers, cell phones and try to really listen to God. It’s easier sometimes when we take away that background noise.



I will not be attending the Great Banquet, but still am going to enjoy my own quiet time. There is a cabin like place at a state park, complete with buffalo and other animals, will be my place for quiet time.


I hope you all have a wonderful weekend – and I’ll be back in touch next week.

Take Me Back to the Black Hills

There is a little town in South Dakota, with one main street though town. A great little coffee shop slash steak place sits on one corner and a grocery store on the other. Up the road is a state park with buffalo herds, some beautiful lakes, and many antelope.

Sometimes my schedule gets busy, as it does with all of us, and I start wishing for a cabin out there in that park. With a good cup of coffee in the morning, a dollop of creamer, in a travel mug in one hand and my camera in the other. Waiting till the sun comes up, enjoying the sunshine, and the mist of the morning starts rising among the Needles Highway. Perched on a look out or a shelter bench, I want to just sit and sip my coffee, listening to the morning. Then, later in the day as the sun approaches the mid-point and the heat rises, I could head to Sylvan Lake and walk on the shore. Smelling pine, enjoying the feel of rock and moss as I climb over them to rejoin the trail, covered in pine needles. Buffalo appear from the groves of tree and move through in herds. Slowly, they appear to plod along and move with an ungainly gate, until they run. Then, their bulk is revealed to be powerful strength. Sometimes I want to watch, observe, sit in the quiet and soak in the stillness of removing the extra distractions around me.

In the quiet, when I can be still long enough to give all the cogs in my head to slow down, that is when I find myself feeling that I can really hear from God. It’s not that God isn’t speaking or isn’t present the other times, it’s just that my distractions make it hard to hear. It’s kind of like trying to carry on a very quiet conversation at a rock concert – it just doesn’t work. So, when my life gets busy or when it starts feeling like I need to get away, I dream of the park outside of that town in South Dakota.