It may seem strange to speak of silence when one is a mother of four precious jibber-jabbering children, all under the age of eleven, in anything other than a sighing-longing way. Amazingly, I am immersed in it (when Henrik deigns to nap, that is).
Since closing down my Facebook a while back, the reams and reams of information, quips, photos, and humorous bits which I plowed through each day have disappeared. In their wake, silence. I didn’t know how anyone was doing, or what they were doing, and no one knew my news either, unless I called, emailed, or got together with them.
My habits have been startled; before, when I’d read a particularly striking quote or passage in a book, I’d earmark it for sharing on Facebook. I wanted to share the nugget I found and hear others’ feedback on it. Now I read that line and am struck and I look up from the page. I still want to share it, I still want to discuss it, so I memorize it. I swallow it in and make it part of me, so that I can, by word spoken, share it. I am chewing on words, rather than handing them off right away.
Also, “checking the computer” takes all of five minutes. Reading and responding to the few emails that trickle in and catching up on the major news stories…and…..done. I close the laptop and look around. There’s nothing more to see here, people, move along.
In the meantime, in this wider silence, I find myself quieting too. Almost like that feeling when you step into a lofty empty cathedral and the quiet urges a stilling of the tongue, urges a listening and an awe.
What is God teaching me in this valley, this quiet, dark, valley? I don’t know, but I beg Him in whispers for wisdom, humility, selflessness, and mercy. For Him to burn out the weeds in my heart and plant life-giving things. For all the soul-killing sins to be yanked into the spotlight and named that I might reject them full in the face, with no turning aside. That sort of stuff.
And in this time, Baby grows in the deep, nearly the size of a kumquat, but with a soul as large as any, in the secret place. And I pray to be a wiser, more humble, more gentle mama today, tomorrow, and when I meet this wee one face-to-face, smiling.