Category: Silence

Snow as a gift...even in April. No foolin'!

4/3/2018

World in (black and) White!

Sunday was supposed to be April Fool’s day, but yesterday I woke up to a world in white, snow upon snow upon snow, maybe 6 inches! In the early light, I was watching birds outside my kitchen window...and before coffee, I’m never quite sure I can trust what I see.

I looked again.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one confused by the piles of whiteness. A disoriented Wilson’s snipe was sharing space with a robin on the driveway! (No foolin'!!)

I was tempted to complain...snow in April? But I knew it couldn’t last long, and truly it was beautiful out there, a winter wonderland. I'd be a fool to complain. In another season of life, I would have looked out into that beauty, longing for the chance to see the sights, camera in hand. So, why not do it?

I pulled on my purple coat and a warm ivory scarf, found my ready-for-storage snow boots and my favorite mittens, and opened the door into “pause.”

Somehow, snow muffles the ordinary noises of country life – leaf rattle was silenced, and traffic buzz from beyond the hill had been muted.

I was left to wander in snow hush and bird song.

A determined song sparrow warbled from the walnut tree, and everywhere, robins fussed and squabbled, trying to find perches on fence posts with six-inch snow caps. (Oh God, let me be the song sparrow...)

I made meandering paths with frequent footprints like this,
stopping “in my tracks!”

to look up,
around,
and back.

So much to see,

in sparkle and shine mode.

I was wrapped in stillness and wonder. I discovered I was smiling and couldn’t stop. (But I didn’t really try.) I had not asked for this enchanting gift, but I was grateful to open my arms, my heart wide to receive it from God’s hand.

Job 37:5,6 God does great things that we cannot comprehend –
for to the snow He says, “fall on the earth...” (even in April.)

Soon enough, it’s time to return to the house. (and the coffee.)

That snipe has moved on (he wasn’t frozen in place as I had feared.)

Already, snow is falling in muffled thumps from branches and wires. By day’s end, the whiteness will be a slushy memory along the roadside, and maybe my gratitude will have melted away too. (I’ll work on that...)

But for these moments, I’ll choose joy, I’ll choose gratitude, I’ll chose praise.

Praise the Lord from the earth-
Fire and hail, snow and mist...
Psalm 148:7,8

If the snow can praise Him, so can I.
Even in April. For snow.
No foolin.

HumminB

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Be still - further adventures in going nowhere.

1/24/2018

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All this month, we've been talking about stillness, the Resolution Revolution - Resolving to do more nothing. It's not always easy, sitting in the silence, but it's always good. Here's what happened to me one day when I finally sat down to pause midday. ("Just sit here and be still," I said to my busy, chattering soul, "for five minutes.") Here's what happened.

Clouds stretch along the far side of Stone Mountain like quilt batting, hinting of a transient mountain ridge beyond what we know.

As I stare, the ephemeral beauty glides slowly left - east - across my view. I’m pleased to have detected the incremental drift, and then something else grabs my attention.

Although sunrise glow happened hours ago, I perceive soft colors in the clouds –
back lit patches of delicate aqua,
deep blue-sky background,
distinctly pink shading,
dashes of golden yellow that look surprisingly warm, considering the wind chill is five degrees.

I wonder if this is a special phenomenon -“Midday Cloud Colors,” or have I never before noticed because I am generally just glancing instead of gazing? I realize again

how good it is to pause,

how hard it is to pause.

Breathing helps. Pulling in long, deep draughts, and thinking...grace, all is grace – the breath, the opportunity to pause, the eyes to see clouds.

Breathing in grace, and it’s You again, Jesus, grace of Presence, presence of grace. I comprehend for a moment, for this moment, that it’s always You, always present.

Although I forget and forget and forget, yet once again it's – grace - here You are!

Breathing out, praise.
Praise for pause,
deep gratitude for the utterly steadfast nature of Your love,
appreciation for Your Abiding Presence.

Breathing in grace; although I am at times faithless – yet – You are faithful.
Breathing out thanks for hope – for Your promises fulfilled, in progress, yet to come.

Today again, I say Yes to the deep peace of pause.

In the adventure of going nowhere, I have once again found You.

HumminB

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Thoughts on stillness continue. Monday creek ramble.

1/9/2018

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I paused along the creek, trying to figure out what was different than usual, what was drawing me to the brambled edge. At first glance, it all seemed pretty boring. Nothing moved, not a bird was in sight, no ducks materializing like a noisy cloud from their late day dip.

And then I recognized the change– it was the quiet.

Utter silence, not a ripple or gurgle or murmur emerged from the creek. It was frozen solid.

Usually, the water chatters incessantly, rushing around little corners, flinging itself across rock patches, babbling and bubbling until it’s all I can hear. This day, nothing.

I wondered how many sets of eyes were watching me from the shadows of overhanging tree roots, how many wings were poised for flight in the brush piles where I usually watched song sparrows and cardinals.

I was as quiet as a very large footed non-wild ambulator could be, which is to say I’m sure all the wild things knew I was dawdling in their habitat.

I kept inhaling the silence, trying to take it in –
breathing deep and deeper,
pausing to test the ice before tiptoeing across,
bending down to get a better view into the shadows along the bank...feather here, scat there, thin path from a slender snow bank tunnel to the field’s grassy edge. I was quite sure I wasn’t alone, but no one was out and about to investigate.

Bleak beauty surrounded me.
It was so changed, with the frozenness and the silence...
it was like I had never walked here before.

It was utterly peaceful and silent.

And though I was walking, some part of me seemed to be motionless, experiencing the deep stillness of the frozen creek.

Apparently, there’s more than one way to be still.

My zooming thoughts slowed down, way down, as I lingered along the winding white ribbon of ice waiting for...nothing in particular.

Nothing at all.

So much peace.
Soul rest.

Within walking distance of
<the to-do list and
<the door trim that needs painted and
<the emails that need to be written and
<the dirty windows and
<the unfinished writing projects and and and...

I found rest!

Adventures in going nowhere.

Out the door, out the road, trudge to the stop sign, turn around, trace the creek path, walk home.

And somehow along that walk,
I found what I didn’t know I was looking for.

Stillness.

HumminB

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Put some holy back in your holiday. Pause.

12/20/2016

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It isn’t quiet outside my window today; something is tick, tick, ticking, drip, drip, dripping against the metal porch roof. Maybe it’s just rain, but the sound has a bit of a click to it, as if sleet might be part of the “wintry mix.” I think I’ll be staying home today, and frankly I’m relieved. My soul needs this patch of quiet after a few hectic, stressful days. But even though I’m “home,” I realize I’m tempted to scurry into action, flying three directions at once in too-fast gear. “I’m going to have to hurry if I’m going to get everything done,” I mutter to myself.

That comment triggers a memory from the book I’ve been reading, The Jesus Life by Stephen W. Smith. I pause, recalling the startling premise: “Jesus was never in a hurry.”

Wait, what?

I pull out my Strong’s Concordance. The word “hurry” isn’t even listed.

See, it should be right here, between hurling and hurt (which strikes me as pointedly accurate.)

The phrase “made haste” is more familiar in the KJV, but even then, it’s never Jesus who is making it! Mary makes haste to visit Elizabeth, the shepherds made haste to find the baby, etc.

But not Jesus. It seems that hurry was not a part of the way Jesus did life.

He had to walk everywhere He went, and He probably could have taken Himself places in a blink (Beam Me up, Spirit?) But no. Perhaps the whole culture moved at a more sane pace in those days before nanoseconds, speed dating (it’s a thing!), and Instagram. Today, it seems that everyone is in a hurry, all the time.

I observe in some Christian circles that “hurry” might be the new holy…the more I pack into life, into my children’s lives, into the church program schedule…the more brownie points get tallied on the eternal report card. Only it doesn’t work that way.

What really happens is that all the hurry distracts me from noticing the growing distance between my life and God’s heart.

Recently I mentioned the quote about Jesus pace of life to someone whom I thought would “get it;” I’m still trying to unpack the unedited response – first, a peal of laughter, and then my words repeated back with a chuckle rumbling just below the surface: “Jesus was never in a hurry,” chuckle, smile.

Was it just too hard to believe the possibility that Jesus was never in a hurry?

But here’s what I’m noticing…He wasn't! And He still isn’t! So, when I’m barreling full speed ahead through my days, my life, chances are I’m not exactly walking in step with Jesus. I’m out ahead, or I’m off course on a detour He didn’t mean for me to take, and in the rush, I’ve missed the Presence completely.

A few weeks ago, my then three-year-old grandson spent a few (wonderful!!!) days in my Hickory Lane world. Sometimes nights are a little unsettling in a different house, so I kept my ear tuned to the sound of his bedroom door opening.

Click. Jiggle. At 4am I heard the latch rattle. Life a flash, I was out of bed; grabbing my glasses, I flew to his little room right next to mine. Yes, the door was ajar. The night light’s glow illuminated the room enough to reveal ---an empty bed.

No child.

I dashed into the hallway, knowing a flight of stairs gaped just steps from his door. No little Buddy.

Rushing to the bathroom, I found…nobody.

Mystified and a little concerned, I poked my head back into his room one more time, (no boy.)

I turned to find him watching me; he stood stock still and a little puzzled in the doorway of my bedroom. In my hurry, I had blown right past him, a quiet presence wearing glow-in-the-dark dinosaur pajamas.

Less hurry, more pause would have helped me to find him much sooner.

I think it’s like that with Jesus sometimes; in my holy hurry, I miss Him completely, and to be honest there are days I'm not even looking for Him. I am just doing life, waay tooo fast, flying past the Presence who, even without glow-in-the-dark dinosaur pajamas, longs to reveal Himself to me in the peace of pause.

My picture, but not my cookies!

Who has time for pause??

I know, I know. Holidays are the worst. (Holy days, right?!)

There is just so much to do, there are so many expectations to fulfill…not the least of which are my own. School and church programs and gift buying and cookie baking and Instagram moments (other people’s perfect, polished lives) keep me in fifth gear.

There is no time to pause.
None.
Unless I choose it.

And so, I choose.
I sit down.
I light a candle.

I listen
– to what is happening around me, all the little sounds coming through the walls through the halls. Sleet tapping. Floorboards groaning. Neighbor's dog fussing. Clock ticking. Clothes dryer rumbling. Chair squeaking.

Then I listen again,
-to what is happening within me. I hear a lot of chattering.
A voice is reciting a to-do list seven inches long, and some shoulds and oughts are murmuring for attention. Reminders of upcoming obligations are fluttering and flapping like flags in a December gale. One by one I acknowledge them and place them in a resting place (my lists are many and useful.)

and then I pause.

I whisper or hum something.
Today it was, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” and He always does.
Or perhaps He always IS…present, Presence.

A quiet knowing comes to my soul, and I take these words, this truth with me:

“Rejoice, rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee…”

If you are going under, in a flood of holiday hectic,
if you are rushing fast,
rushing past the Presence,
I recommend this practice.
Give yourself permission to pause.
Fifteen minutes would be a wonderful start.

Sit down.
Light a candle.
Listen to what is happening around you.
Listen to what is happening within you.
Then, just listen.

Be still and know the Presence.
Breathe in grace, breathe out praise.

When you return to
"your regularly scheduled programming,”
it might look a little different.
It might feel a little different.
(I hope it does!)
Keep breathing in - grace.
Keep breathing out - praise.
Put some Holy day back in your holiday.

Pause.

HumminB

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Snow - "God's invitation to pause."

2/16/2016

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Snow is falling on Hickory Lane.
Even inside I can hear the quiet it brings,
muffling every sound,
smoothing off the sharp edges of daily life,
bring tranquility to the scenes outside my window.

But inside my head, the racket continues. My ears (still) ring, and my mind is noisy and chaotic like a radio turned too loud with fuzzy reception and random station changes.

Somehow the snow helps me to slow down a bit. My friend MaryJean describes snow as "God's invitation to pause." I think she's right, and I want to accept the invitation. I light a candle and watch through the window as ice crystals dance to earth across red shed and weathered gray barn board backdrop.

I struggle to bring order to the scattered fragments of worry I've managed to pick up this day before I remembered to pause. (I feels like I'm herding cats.) Some bits I must simply release; they are soul lint and gravel that I have somehow added to my bag for the day because I hit "start" before I chose pause:

-the state budget (or lack thereof.)
-the unavailability of a jacket I thought I needed...now where will I find one before our trip?
-another presidential debate. (could somebody please at least act presidential?)
-the projected weather and how my projected plans will be affected. (School isn't the only thing that gets cancelled when the weather turns south. Errr, I mean north. Brrr.)
-rude words I recently heard directed at me seem to stick like lint...

Let it go, B, let it all go. Turn every bit loose to blow with the snow flakes.

Other floating anxieties, worries, fears are harder to toss. They are deeper, closer to my heart. I move them to a list for praying, my "holding up list."

-friends dealing with the big C's, cancer and chemo.
-relationship tangles near and far.
-my friend with a houseful of orphans and no water
-a short list of mourners who have lost their mothers recently. I.know.how.hard.that.is.
-a friend's struggle with drama, how she hates it yet creates it.
-on and on.
Half the stuff I can't list because...the stories aren't mine, yet somehow I pick up these heavy bits and haul them around with me day after day.

It takes awhile, sitting in deep silence, unpacking a lot of...stuff, but I gradually feel the peace of Jesus encroaching on each spot vacated by the piecemeal release of my collection into His care. I'm letting go. (Again.)

It's not that I don't care; it's that I am choosing not to carry. I'm putting these anxieties in better hands, off loading on One who has offered to carry all of it.

I sense a change as the volume of my inner radio is dialed back, notch by notch, and I breathe in the quiet.

This. How I've missed this quiet on the inside.

I've been too goal oriented lately; I've been doing too much multi-tasking; I've been moving too many directions too soon most mornings. Like a loose throttle on a lawn mower, my life speed has been inching up, faster, faster, faster.

The noise of life lived too fast has been overshadowing the whisper I want to hear more than any other.

Even though I read these words every single day (or, at least I see them....) I've lost track of their truth.

But not this day.

Today the quietness of snowfall murmurs a reminder-
to pause,
to listen to the silence,
to listen in the silence for the whisper of God.

Hummin'B

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Still thinking about...stillness.

7/16/2014

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Whatever happened to silence? What happens IN silence? Those were the questions I asked last post. I've been chatting to people about this topic, asking about silence, wondering aloud about the need for and lack of silence in our world, in my world.

I don't mean to nitpick, but I'm deciding that the words silence and stillness and quiet and rest aren't necessarily interchangeable. And that's a good thing for many of us, because...
if we have to wait for silence or even quiet to find a place of rest inside, a lot of us are in big trouble.

(Which might be true anyway.) Because our world is a very noisy place, because MY world is a very noisy place.

Take today.

I was really looking forward to some garden time this afternoon. This blog post has been brewing for awhile and I wanted to complete the "steeping" process in the quiet of my "happy place" as I weeded and puttered and scattered grass clippings along the recently emerged green beans.

Oh.

Grass clippings.

Produced by a lawn mower. A very noisy lawn mower.

Well, yes, that did interfere with the quiet I was hoping for...

And somehow I had forgotten that since the porch replacement project is still underway, workers would be sawing and hammering, as busy as bees (really noisy bees) ...about ten feet from the edge of my increasingly unquiet "happy place."

Eventually, that porch is going to be a lovely place to savor a cup of coffee in the stillness of a misty morning.

But not yet.

So, , yes, it was a little hectic.

Youngest zoomed about in his big green machine, determined that all the grass would be the same length at the same time, which meant a lot of things were in his way. (And he has learned that he can finish tomorrow. Or Friday.) And although the carpenter wore ear protection when those metal posts needed trimmed, I did not.

Quiet it was not.

And then the chainsaw roared to life.
I had to chuckle. God must surely have a sense of humor, as He knew my plans to ponder quietness in a quiet place.

But I did notice something. Even with the racket, I was (uncharacteristically!!) quiet inside. It was, somehow, okay.

I've been struggling with this thought all week, that if we must have utter stillness to hear from God, great blocks of quiet to find a place of rest inside, most of us don't have a chance because even with our best efforts, the world is a noisy place.
But God still speaks.
To me.
In spite of the noise.
In the noise.
Even THROUGH the noise.

And what is He saying?
He is reminding me that I can't always wait for actual quiet to find stillness within,
that sometimes the world around me will be very very loud,
yet I can still find a path to the quiet place within me.

He urges me, "Be still and know that I am God."
Regardless of my surroundings, regardless of the din of the day, the clamor of my circumstances,
I can be still,
He is still God,
and I can trust that He is at work within me, around me.

Even when I think I cannot hear a word, I can see His work, and know that He is God and He is good.

Amid the commotion of the day,
noiselessly,
the flower bloomed, the tomato ripened,
I was still,
and He is God. Still.

And I still am -HumminB.

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What ever happened to silence? Whatever happens IN silence?

7/7/2014

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Poppies at first light.

Without a whisper of warning,
glorious pink petals fell,
still lovely in their last moments.

I saw them drop,
an oddly silent, sudden act.
It seemed a crash was needed,
but poppy rain fell
with no sound at all.

midsummer petal fall

I've been thinking about "silence" recently...not that there is much of that in my household...in my life, but maybe that's why I'm pondering it, because I need it so desperately. I'm carrying this phrase with me:

In silence my soul waits for You, O Lord.

But what does it mean?

I'm throwing this blog post out unfinished, a work in process, asking you to think with me about the role of silence in our world.

Whatever happened to silence? Where has it gone? What does that mean? What has it cost us?

What happens in silence that doesn't happen any other way? Is silence nothing/emptiness/passive/nil/not anything at all?

Or...consider the poppies.

In the silence, there was great activity, a huge change. No noise was needed, but a lot was going on, for the poppy.

How about you? Do you need silence? How do you get that space? What happens in silence?

Whatever happened to silence?

Hummin'B

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Snow as a gift...even in April. No foolin'!

Be still - further adventures in going nowhere.

Thoughts on stillness continue. Monday creek ramble.

Put some holy back in your holiday. Pause.

Snow - "God's invitation to pause."

Still thinking about...stillness.

What ever happened to silence? Whatever happens IN silence?

In silence my soul waits for You, O Lord.

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Snow as a gift...even in April. No foolin'!

Be still - further adventures in going nowhere.

Thoughts on stillness continue. Monday creek ramble.

Put some holy back in your holiday. Pause.

Snow - "God's invitation to pause."

Still thinking about...stillness.

What ever happened to silence? Whatever happens IN silence?

In silence my soul waits for You, O L﻿ord.

Author

Stay Connected!

Categories

Archives

In silence my soul waits for You, O Lord.