Silence is a way to keep from being devoured. Some people write or sing or yell their way through hard times, but I wrap myself in stillness; wait. Once the fox passes by there will be laughing and talking and sharing and probing the scraped and bruised places, but until then I depend on the silence to keep me strong and steady.
Thank you for grace as the fox passes by here again on its usual rounds.
In the meantime I've been working slowly on our family calendar. Last year I had the idea to draw the whole thing by hand and I loved it. I'm not particularly artistic, but I wanted to create something with my own hands and my own ability - no one else's ideas or patterns or how-to...just my own creation.
I'm slower at it this year. January is slipping away and I am not even halfway through the calendar yet, but the slow blocking out of weeks and days, the hopeful inking of an idea for each month ahead, is replenishing my optimism for the new year. In my silence I've barely been able to open my mouth to pray, but I know God understands each black stroke is a petition that He will give joy in the days ahead.
My humanity wishes I would grow stronger as time goes by, but I only seem to grow more needful, the hunger for silence more urgent. Perhaps this is only what we all discover as time accumulates in years behind us, not a thing to be sad over, but a truth to know and embrace. That's something to think about.
I know for certain that I'm glad for this space. Glad for the little pleasures of sharing something dear to me. Isn't it wonderful that we can share this way, with one click of the keyboard? Such a marvelous old world after all.
I'll see you tomorrow to talk about prayer. Until then...
love to you.