In the Silence, In the Solitude

My mind is flooded with memories of noise, chaos — happy chaos — of laughter; the family we were.  And I “see” the family who we are now, and who we are yet to be.

Re-arranging the dining room/den (which has forever been called the “back-room”), there is now a corner for bird-watching and contemplation.  An antique black typewriter sits on a wicker stand, with a potted palm tree beside it — my little taste of Key West on an early Northeast spring morning.

In this room, our new family will be forged.   The same way the old one was, through times spent together, laughter, and a bit of chaos thrown in….

There is a growing to occur here.  And a pruning as well.  There is sorrow for the losses and the changes pruning brings, but excitement of what is yet to come; pruning is the way to new growth, new buds, new life.

But for now, there is a waiting on God in the silence, in the solitude, in the in-between ….. the waiting between the quiet times and the happy chaos.


A Line in the Water And A Worm on the Hook

I’m thinking, today, about when my sisters and I were kids and the family would go fishing — sitting, waiting quietly for a bite — something that comes to you while you do nothing but enjoy the moment. My dad fished as often as he could. He taught us how to bait a hook, cast out. But more importantly, how to sit and wait, taking it all in and savoring our surroundings — how pretty it all was, the birds we could hear, the feel of the breeze. I believe it is because of this that I will soon get a call from my sister, Jayne, asking if I see the early signs of spring, or if I notice the shadows changing. Or we will talk about the different song of the birds in the morning.

But waiting — that’s the hard part. There are plenty of opportunities to practice waiting all the time. There’s waiting for the weather to clear up, waiting for a doctor’s appointment, waiting for a delivery, waiting for change, waiting for answers, waiting for time to pass.

I once read, on one of those silly plaques in a novelty store, “there is a fine line between waiting for fish to bite and just plain looking stupid”.  And isn’t that the truth! To sit quietly waiting … while the most I am investing in the game is a line in the water and a worm on the hook, — well, isn’t that just ridiculous? Shouldn’t I, at the very least, waggle the line and wiggle the worm? Entice the fish to bite? Cast, and re-cast? Most times, for me, waiting peacefully is impossible, although I love the idea of it. Then:


comes to me, and there is something to this. A peace that my mind cannot comprehend. A knowing that all things work together for good. A trust. A revelation. And, with that, I am reminded how to wait: surrender.  To the moment.  I don’t just give up, I move out of the way.   I let it all fall into His hands.  I don’t just let it go, I let God. And, in that place, I find


which is what I think dad was trying to show us with a line in the water, and a worm on the hook.