another weekend. a beautiful day in a beautiful world that is full.
that is it. it is full.
full of good things and bad things and hard things and things we must wait for and things we want but will never hold in our hands. full of things that leave us empty and full of things that fill us until we are sure we will burst.
i love fredrick buechner. love him. love his words. his mind. what he does for my mind and my heart- how he stirs my soul. today i began his book 'telling the truth'. i found it on the shelf when i was drinking my coffee. i was so excited because his words lead me back to the mystery that is our life. to the unknown-ness that we all pretend so hard to know. to the bare reality of our messiness and the absolute truth of God loving us in our raggedy states. he talks about silence. the hugeness of silence. the importance of it. the need of it. the voice of it.
"Before the Gospel is a word, it is silence. It is the silence of [our] own lives. It is life with the sound turned off so that for a moment or two you can experience it not in terms of the words you make it bearable by but for the unutterable mystery that it is. "Be silent and know that I am God, saith the Lord" (Ps. 46:10) Be silent and know that even by my silence and absence I am known. Be silent and listen to the stones cry out."
because they do. the stones and the trees and the grasses and the sand. and we do. all of us cry out. all of us are full of the very best and the very worst. we are full and we are scared of silence. we are noise and busy- our lives. we keep them that way so we don't have to listen to the silence. because in silence comes truth.
what truth? what truth is in this moment? this silence? i hear a door shut. a bird. the sound of bryn outside playing alone on the stone wall that used to be a hut. i hear his feet walking it in circles singing softly to his six year old self. what does he hear in his own silence? there is the wind and another bird and thankfully not the barking of the dog. i now hear mike in the kitchen. the crinkle of bag. the ticking of the clock. the crunching of a snack being eaten. the soft clicks of this keyboard. i hear peace. i hear fullness in the space that is our lives. i hear rose in the neighbors yard- echoing voices of kids exploring the world in the freedom of the afternoon on a sunday. if we are quiet, the mysteries can unfold. and the things we avoid in thought, the things that wake us in the night, the things we all have in some version or another, they are there anyway, they are part of our truth, the good and the bad. the hard and the soft. the things that haunt us and that make us run with exuberance and glee.
may i let my silence speak.
that is it. it is full.
full of good things and bad things and hard things and things we must wait for and things we want but will never hold in our hands. full of things that leave us empty and full of things that fill us until we are sure we will burst.
i love fredrick buechner. love him. love his words. his mind. what he does for my mind and my heart- how he stirs my soul. today i began his book 'telling the truth'. i found it on the shelf when i was drinking my coffee. i was so excited because his words lead me back to the mystery that is our life. to the unknown-ness that we all pretend so hard to know. to the bare reality of our messiness and the absolute truth of God loving us in our raggedy states. he talks about silence. the hugeness of silence. the importance of it. the need of it. the voice of it.
"Before the Gospel is a word, it is silence. It is the silence of [our] own lives. It is life with the sound turned off so that for a moment or two you can experience it not in terms of the words you make it bearable by but for the unutterable mystery that it is. "Be silent and know that I am God, saith the Lord" (Ps. 46:10) Be silent and know that even by my silence and absence I am known. Be silent and listen to the stones cry out."
because they do. the stones and the trees and the grasses and the sand. and we do. all of us cry out. all of us are full of the very best and the very worst. we are full and we are scared of silence. we are noise and busy- our lives. we keep them that way so we don't have to listen to the silence. because in silence comes truth.
what truth? what truth is in this moment? this silence? i hear a door shut. a bird. the sound of bryn outside playing alone on the stone wall that used to be a hut. i hear his feet walking it in circles singing softly to his six year old self. what does he hear in his own silence? there is the wind and another bird and thankfully not the barking of the dog. i now hear mike in the kitchen. the crinkle of bag. the ticking of the clock. the crunching of a snack being eaten. the soft clicks of this keyboard. i hear peace. i hear fullness in the space that is our lives. i hear rose in the neighbors yard- echoing voices of kids exploring the world in the freedom of the afternoon on a sunday. if we are quiet, the mysteries can unfold. and the things we avoid in thought, the things that wake us in the night, the things we all have in some version or another, they are there anyway, they are part of our truth, the good and the bad. the hard and the soft. the things that haunt us and that make us run with exuberance and glee.
may i let my silence speak.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.