Say the Quiet Part Out Loud
There are two quiet parts - one that is actually loud and lurks below the noise driving me to all kinds of craziness and one that is true and speaks goodness, beauty and honest love.
I find getting to the true Quiet Part takes practice, patience, perseverance. I have to go through the first to reach the second.
Because first comes the loud part where the wild beasts come out. That roiling, rumbling stew of regrets, insecurities, fears, failures, competitiveness, separateness, loss of identity, and relentless shame.
Exactly when did I get old? How am I not the mama to littles, teens, or even college kids? What are these age spots and raised veins on my hands like my great grandma? Where did my original flaming red hair go?
What if I am incompetent, out-of -touch, ridiculous, easily forgotten?
What will Mike do if I die first? He will still wake up with music in his head that needs to be played. Will he play it for someone else? Will he remember to open the curtains, light a candle, make soup, watch the Wonders?
What in the world will I do if he dies first? Who will play morning music for me ranging from AC/DC to John Mayer to concertos ? Will I remember to change all the filters, get snow tires, pay the property taxes?
“If I am to let my life speak things I want to hear, things I would gladly tell others, I must also let it speak things I do not want to hear and would never tell anyone else! My life is not only about my strengths and virtues; it is also about my liabilities and my limits, my trespasses and my shadow. An inevitable though often ignored dimension of the quest for “wholeness” is that we must embrace what we dislike or find shameful about ourselves as well as what we are confident and proud of.””
If I can pause in the wilderness (hard because I want to run), take a breath (hard because I am holding mine), take the pan off the heat and let the boil back off (hard because it is about to boil over), then maybe, just maybe, my insides might quiet down to hear what’s underneath all the noise. If I can open that moment, then I can make room for what R. S. Thomas calls, “the silence (that) holds with its gloved hand the wild hawk of the mind”.
The wild hawk clawing around in my mind tells me scratchy things like - the state of the world is beyond repair, I’m behind, I’ve got to know for sure, I not ready, I don’t know enough, time is slipping through my fingers, I might have missed something big, I can’t possibly be loved, not deeply, truly, madly, as my Mama likes to say, “warts and all”.
But below the fray is the actual Quiet Part, where the whisper of our beautiful God can be heard. That tender, hopeful, creative part that only comes out in safety, quiet stillness, and deep love. The elegant, nimble doe that wants to trust the stream but knows hunter’s arrows zing thought the cold air and draw blood.
“The soul is like a wild animal – tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient, and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek.””
The Quiet Part is the place in us where we can come out of hiding into a wide open space and be our true self. It is the place where I can hear the whisper that I am right on time, invited and welcomed into the family circle, where I may be small but oh so significant. Where my voice is needed, encouraged, valued.
When I get still and quiet, I can remember things I forget in the noise and rush. More than remembering, I can experience things I was made for - being seen, planned for, hoped for, chased even, chased by Beauty, Goodness and Love.
Of course, I am still wounded by the world. I have scars. And honestly, I don’t want any more hurt so I tend to keep my guard up long after I remember I can let it down.
But here in the clearing of quiet, I am tended to in my wounds, held tenderly and fiercely by everlasting arms. To my good Maker I am weirdly wonderful even with my mistakes, insecurities, and guardedness.
In His loving presence, I can hear a wildly different message in a very different tone of voice than what the noise brings.
Here are a few things I have heard the Trinity of Love say when I get quiet:
“Let Me talk to you in the night.”
“You can fire your bodyguard. Let Me do that.”
“Let Sabbath be a mending day. You rest.”
“Let me delight in you while you delight in Me.”
Writing this to you, I suddenly notice the repetition of the word “let”. I guess I am learning to allow God to do His work while I do mine which in part is learning to receive his love and care.
No one told me how difficult that might be. And I am more practiced in holding on, holding back, figuring it out, and trying to avoid the quiet.
Writing this to you is me learning to say the quiet part(s) out loud, first one then the Other.
This is Day 1 “Saying the Quiet Parts Out Loud” of November writing prompts called #goodnessgrounded alongside Lori Brown Harris. I’ll be writing here or over on Instagram.