The taillights which had stopped red in the night just ahead of me seemed for once a relief. Traffic. Silence. Stillness.
The red glow of the lights jolted my sluggish and congested mind. Even traffic is a gift when children are sleeping.
Not twenty minutes earlier I had wisked my two littles into the backseat of our car and out into the cold. The house had gotten too wallish. The ceilings lower than what seemed humanly possible. Could I even stand up straight in there?! I think the dishes were even scheming and planning to multiply as I closed the door behind me.
We were going out. Anywhere.
In the quiet drive that followed, I felt myself unravel. Life always flashes before me in these moments, the wild beauty and mystery of it all.
It’s amazing how quickly silence does this to our spirits. We unravel when there is finally nothing to distract, or pull at us. We unravel when we give ourselves room to think.
We unravel and step back and think about how well we are loving and living out our one precious life.
Sometimes we think every moment needs filling, but it truly doesn’t. Or, sometimes every moment simply gets filled by default.
Either way, silence is what brings back fulfillment and refreshment.
Silence is like a mirror and though sometimes it is incredibly hard to look into (because when we look, we see ourselves and our lives all laid out bare) it is wildly important to do so.
In the silence we have no place left to hide and all we can do is look at who we have become and what we have done with our lives up to that point.
We need the silence because we need to look at whether we are making an impact, leaving a legacy, loving well, forgiving wholeheartedly, and living with courage and generosity!
As I drove home that night my spirit felt lifted. In the small space of silence I had, I became thankful for all that my life holds right now, both good and bad, easy and hard. They all have a purpose. Nothing is wasted in this life.
Even my dishes had stopped their scheming and multiplying as I walked through the door and the ceilings had grown upward by at least 2 feet, I am sure!
Silence offered me a gift that night, and it offers the same gift of refreshment every time I choose to embrace it.
Have you let silence unravel your spirit recently?