Deafening Silence

An empty room,
A hollow hall,
No other soul,
No one at all.
Alone with myself,
The quiet is consuming
Not a word is spoken
Yet the noise is resuming.

I cannot escape my own ponderings
I cannot flee the wonderings.
And my thoughts scream enough for a crowd.
Who knew silence could be so loud?

I want to run,
Run far away.
Far from everything,
Everything my mind is trying to say.
All that I know,
All that I fear
All that I treasure,
All that I hold dear.

I am away from the people,
Gone from the cacophony
But in the end, in the end,
I can’t flee very far from me.

I cannot escape my own ponderings
I cannot flee the wonderings.
And my thoughts scream enough for a crowd.
Who knew silence could be so loud?

Never Old

When I was in Montana, I couldn’t help but stare at the mountains, all of the time. I took picture upon picture upon picture of the landscape – hoping, attempting, to capture the beauty and the splendor of the mountains in the frame of my camera. Each time failing to do the snow capped peaks and the majestic grassy cascades any justice. So I would close my eyes and take a deep breath in. And then look around and shake my head. “It never gets old...”

How many I, or one of my group members, used that exact phrase. “It never gets old.” We could never get our fill of the incredibleness of creation that surrounded us. Waiting for the mountains to seem like a tree or a bird – just a piece of the scenery, each day we were amazed at how much the view still took our breath away. How many times I would look at sun melting warmly over the hills and praise God for his creation. And I wonder, if maybe it never got old me, because it never got old to God.

How much God must delight when His children delight in the things He’s made – created for us to marvel at and see Him in. I wonder if He just waits. Waits for one of His own to raise her eyes to the sky with arms lifted high and the words “God, I love you. I love that you made me. I’m speechless at all I see. Indeed, all that you made is good!” resting on her lips. Smiling as she wonders how she can even be worth His time – have any significance or beauty in comparison to such incredible creation. And her praises – they never get old. God listens with a smile on His face saying “Say it again! Love me again! Praise me again! It doesn’t get old!”

For as long as the view was fresh and breathtaking, for as long as my eyes and my words were full of awe, God would get the praise. And my praise never got old to Him. And so the reason for praise never got old to me. Father God, may all you have created, may all your great works, never get old...

Wait

So many questions. I left for a much needed and much anticipated trip to the mountains of Montana with questions. Of myself and of God. Desperate for a rekindled passion for my Saviour, I anticipated great things. Furthermore, I anticipated great answers.

As I woke up each morning - before my group mates would stir - to spend my own special time with God, I would stare at the sun rising bold and beautiful over the mountain tops and lose myself in the majesty and spleador of my Creator. I felt wrapped, entrapped, in His love for me - me, a gem in the crown of His creation. Much greater than even the vast hills which lie to my every side though I could not fathom my own worth. And I would pour my heart out before my Father and my God and wait for His reply.

Mostly my attempts to silence myself before my King were answered with similar silence - devoid of the answers I so accutely desired. And so I continued to seek. And though I felt as if I could see God - clearly and plainly - I could not hear His voice. I had yet to let the other voices fade. As I struggled to surrender the voices of my questions to hear the voice of God, the assurance of an answer rang in my soul and played on my lips.

"Wait."

I know no clearer word. The answer - the one had been waiting for, searching for, longing for. Wait. An answer wrapped in discontent. Ready to rejoice in the knowledge of a response, instead I was soon frantic. "What am I waiting on? What am I waiting for? What am I supposed to do while I wait?!?"

"Just wait."

I have a feeling Montana was just the beginning. Just the start of the next stage God intends to bring me through in my life. And though I am unnerved at the lack of clarity, the foggy destination, I pray to continue to listen for and hear the voice of God. Until all becomes clear...I wait.

Simple Victories

With a kink in my neck I allowed my head to fall back as far as it would go. At the end I felt the strained pull along the scar line on my neck. I was struck, suddenly, by the marvel of allowing my head to flop back. And remembered my many “mini marvels” the first couple months after surgery the ones that went clear until March...

There was such pain in my incision, and I had to adjust to the little things. I remembered the soreness of sleeping...on my back, on my side, on my stomach...for all put my head at an angle where my incision screamed in throbbing, shearing, pain. To tilt my head back – or forward, at all, was an impossibility – to sleep, to stretch, to pray or otherwise. A frequent Listerine user...my first subconscious attempt left me with tears in my eyes, choking, gagging, and gasping for air. It was so impossibly hard and it hurt so badly! And on top of it all...I had no voice for six weeks, six solid weeks where my loudest scream was a just-audible whisper.

And there was such excitement. I could hardly contain myself as week after week I would strive to put my head back just a little farther. The first night I could sleep naturally on a pillow was a near-miracle. I danced in the hallway the first time my voice cracked for more than a couple of words. And I again choked on the Listerine – only this time from laughter – when another hesitant try resulted in gargling. I cheered; I thanked God; I told everyone. They were simple victories, but victories none-the-less. And God was to have the glory in them too.

I wonder when I stopped looking for the simple victories in life. When I stopped thriving in even the small things and only paid attention to what I thought mattered... Have I lost sight of the little blessings, the mini marvels, God is throwing into my day? In so many ways I am desperately waiting for something big – something to shake my foundations, motivate me, compel me, inspire me – something complex, intricate. Am I let down in the search for the complex by ignoring the simple? When will I again give God the glory for all of my simple victories?

A Good Question...

I was babysitting today. Not really enjoying it – I was doing my best to control an unusually short wick – but not all-together despising it either. I was finishing up a craft project with the three girls when Mary, age four, came and tapped my knee.

“Miss Anika?” Her sing-songy voice asked with a questioning look.

I smiled as I looked directly into her eyes. “Yes Mary?”

“Miss Anika, what is your favorite thing to do in the whole world? What do you just want to do all of the time?”

That wasn’t a question I was expecting. I paused. Mary stared at me. I paused some more. I glanced back at her and made a very ‘matter-of-fact’ face. “You know Mary...that is a very good question...”

Mary’s face turned very serious and she looked at me intently. “Yes. A very question. I asked a very good question!” And she ran off.

I wish I could have run off too. What is my favorite thing? What do I just want to do all of the time? Anything? What am I passionate about? What do I live for; breathe for, what defines me? Why do I want to answer with “Jesus” and why does my gut, my life, my heart, scream it’s not enough? Shouldn’t it be? Or does Jesus define the answers rather than stand in for them? For all of the questions...why don’t I know?

For so long being sick has been my focus, my consuming, defining, controlling aspect of life. I lived being sick, I fought being sick, I strove to be more than being sick...though I never really knew what I was striving for and never really obtained it, I experience Jesus through being sick. Now that I don’t have to fight for normalcy – it’s been “given back” to me...I no longer know what it is. Who I am. I find myself off, lost, and in the search of me.