Monday, August 31, 2015

About my summer

Silence.
The clock ticks. The dogs breathe. My fingers clatter across the keys.
Outside the world rushes by, cars racing up our steep hill, the freeway in the distance a steady hum.
But there is silence here. A deep silence where my heart and thoughts and soul meet.


Silence on this page, too, of course.


The rush of summer, the steady hum of visitor and sun and heat all bore down on in such a rush that no words came. A weekend bag lay open beside my closet for two months. After putting it away and taking it out again twice in a week, and looking at the calendar, it just lay there, waiting for the next trip out the door. Our house lay open too, sheets and towels and our murphy beds were in a constant state of stripping and changing, rethinking of who, where, when. We celebrated a 30th birthday party of one daughter, the going-to-Kenya party of another, the wedding weekend of our 'almost' daughter (that was three solid days of parties mostly at our house!), and visits from a beloved niece, beloved friends, siblings, other family members. It was summer in its finest, its fullest--its usual, some might say about us.


But this year, about the time we were halfway through, I jettisoned my need to write every day. I was just too tired be the time I had a moment alone. My brain wasn't functioning well enough. That's new. I have to admit that the longer I live in pain, the less I can hold everything together on my own. And that's also been the struggle of the summer for me.


Silence.
My personal ongoing chronic pain struggles and what happens in my spiritual life as a result can be summed up in that word, too. Some people shake their fists at God. Ask a whole lot of "Why" questions. That's never been in my DNA. Don't know why, it just hasn't. But silence is. When I don't understand something, when I get discouraged, I tend to get quiet with Him. I shut Him out the way I do my own Beve when I'm frustrated with him. The silent treatment is my go-to move every time. It's neither right nor effective but it is knee-jerk.
And that's where I've been living.
Silence.
Our big dog snores across the room. The clock still ticks.
I love these sounds. I love the quiet in my home that helps me settle in to His deep silence.
Summer is over.  The hot days have shifted into rain-pattered windows and wind in the evergreens. It's time for me to buckle down into the silence and get to work.
"Work out your salvation with fear and trembling
for it is God who is as work within You."