The Gift of Quiet. A Note From Jan.

First official day of Spring according to the calendar but not the landscape. Gray and cloudy. Snowing. Not a blossom in sight. However as Jud told me one year when I stood looking dejectedly at myself in the hall mirror, “Don’t believe everything you see!”

It was Steve Macchia of Leadership Transformations, Inc.(LTI) who first introduced me to the holy health of silent retreats. Yesterday’s reading at our Lenten study from CHRIST, MY COMPANION by Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, which spoke of the significance of silence, took me back to those retreats.

Yesterday’s chapter, ”Christ in Quiet” from St. Patrick’s prayer, teaches “that times of silence are part of the rules of religious life, not only as a mode of healing and hospitality to the God who seeks our company [but also] that in silence we discover a dimension of the ‘imitation of Christ,’ who withdrew repeatedly into the wilderness or the garden to pray in solitude.”

One of the aspects of life without Jud is the quiet.  I miss his good company but am learning the hidden strength of quietness, so different from being lonely or left alone. Quiet sometimes slips in to comfort like a longed for friend. A silent friend in the stillness of this place where I reflect, write and sometimes just sit and listen. My still point.

We’re a twitchy, noisy bunch much of the time in this loud and fast paced culture… Plugged in to cellphones, ipads, computers, television and more; like we’re allergic to quiet. Loud music challenges even young ears to listen while eating a meal in most restaurants, sometimes even at home. So foreign in our culture to “be still” and not feel guilty, bored or frantically hunting something to do, to watch, to eat. Early on we’re taught that value comes from doing, not being.

McIntyre tells of seeing a sign on a wall in a retreat center that read, “Don’t just do something—stand there!”

Later, she adds, “Our stillness is an invitation, already accepted by the Christ who stands at the threshold of every quiet space and waits in the depths of the quieting mind for those moments when we make ourselves available. When we are available, the Word is audible.”

Isaiah 30:15 says, “In quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” That’s a break-my-heart kind of word from God.   How often do I shake my fist at God by filling time with agendas, clutter and noise and with my clanging busyness declare, “I’ll have none of it”?

To be still encourages listening. To listen is to learn. Listening admits that others have something to teach me.

Quiet’s my friend. Stillness the classroom. And trust essential to a teachable heart.

I’m grateful for the gift of quiet. Speak, Lord. This widow-child is listening. And watching for that buried treasure called Spring.