It’s quiet. For a young mom of three, silence is priceless. Unplanned silence is even more priceless. Unplanned silence that isn’t the result of your children getting into something they shouldn’t be… well that’s just sacred.
And here I am in this sacred moment. The baby strapped to my chest and the boys joyfully helping daddy clear the snow from the drive. It’s likely winter’s last stand and here, with a glass of sweet red wine, I chop potatoes for a humble meal and am content.
I think you can only tell who you truly are in silence. What do I do when audible reprieve lasts longer than immediate gratification? Am I restless? Am I lonely? Am I anxious? Do I fill the blessed void with noise? An hour of true silence will prove me much more than all the day’s activities. When I am alone, and still am I okay in my own company?
And what of God’s silence? What do we do in the face of often mute sovereignty? So often I strive to beg affirmation from His lips. To invoke an emotional response that tells me I have value. As if the cross was not enough. Did He not already tell me that I was worth everything to Him? Oh, but too often I’m anxious in His presence. Eager to prove my worth or insinuating that He needs to readdress His goodness. It is far easier to sing songs and read words than it is to “Be still and know that I am God”.
How I long, oh sweet Jesus, how I long to be as an old friend. Resting comfortably in your undeniable character; mirroring divine peace in your holy silence. In that place where a glance is as telling as a thousand words and where I know and truly am known. Sweet Lord, let me be so.