For a little over a year now I have lived alone. This has been the first time in my life that I’ve ever lived by myself growing up with a brother and a sister, having college roommates, getting married and having children, and then suddenly one day …I live alone.
It came as a shock and my system wasn’t prepared for it. It was as though abruptly my life was filled with …stillness.
Quiet became the language that I spoke.
Solitude became the norm.
Reflectiveness descended upon me.
And I began to notice things. They were all things that I’d seen before but having an abundance of time on my hands I explored them in a fullness that I never had before.
Leaves rustling in the breeze with sun shining on them made me realize that trees can dance. Then I saw all of the thousand shades of green that the leaves are and it made me remember a friend who had first pointed out to me that leaves can be so many shades of green. So Fran was raised from the dead and I realize how much I love her still though she has been dead for thirty years.
At the end of my street is a sea of marsh grass that is dotted with several houses across the way and crowned with the Light House. It is a painting done in real life. God herself does a watercolor in the marsh every single morning and provides an ever changing landscape of sky. The houses rest on the horizon and the lighthouse is majestic in black and white with this ball of illumination that never goes out.
As I make my way around I see the Back River flowing in the distance and the houses of Wilmington Island remind me that there is another world over there. The grandeur of the Wilmington Island Club sits in the distance. I walk out on this sad little holy dock and survey the movement of the river, the swaying of the marsh, and the contrast between what God has made and what people have built.
Topping the crosswalk at the beach, the sun sprinkles diamonds on the ocean and it is sometimes blinding. There are people standing on surf boards holding onto paddles silhouetted in the sunshine making me think that they look like a crippled Jesus walking on the water. Pelicans dive into the sea and dolphins rise from the water and flash me smiles.
Back home I sit on the back deck which has become a beloved part of the silence and I rest my feet on the railing. I stare at my feet and there is this one particular toe that I consider for the longest time. Flowers bloom and weeds grow and I watch them change a little bit every day.
Phone calls have become welcomed intrusions whereas I used to curse them loudly. Family, friends and even people trying to sell me things or take surveys grew to be lighthearted celebrations of interaction. Callers from far off lands would grow quiet when talking to me and ask me if those are birds singing in the background. And I would grow quiet and listen and choirs of birds were singing never ending cantatas.
I am struck that I never would have explored these things had I not walked away from the demands of the world. The expectation of others would have me rushing to work each day and longing for home. The hundreds of “friends” that I’ve accumulated over the years all expect me to be there for them. Yet I have discovered this handful of people who have been here for me. I’ve learned who friends really are. I SEE things differently!
There has been this long intense conversation with myself. I’ve remembered all of the things that I’ve done in my life, both the bad and the good, and delight in how there is so much more good than bad. I struggled mightily to give myself permission to simply to this …be me as I am.
These things were discovered in the silence. And I am stunned by how much I have learned…about who I am…the richness of what is around me …the beauty of how it is when these things are celebrated together.
Distractions try to work themselves in. And when they do I say, “Shhuuu!”
Be quiet. Be still. Know the holiness that is the life that we are living.
