It has been a puzzling month in many ways, a month of contrasts. We have had some singularly wonderful things happen and some polar opposite of that. I have spent a lot of time driving back and forth to church, a route which takes us along many miles of wide open range where minutes pass without meeting another vehicle. Time stands still out there. Pronghorn lift their heads to watch pass. Tiny ground squirrels dart across the road tempting fate. Hawks swing low and soar again. Cattle graze. In other places new growth peeks its head through fire-scorched earth. More and more I find myself leaving the radio off and just taking it all in.

Often on these trips the children are fast asleep leaving me to my thoughts. Sometimes a child will awaken and will break the silence with ideas that only come in those moments when you are completely still and void of all distraction. I offer an occasional response, but mostly I listen, because really that seems to be what those kinds of words call for.

I have carried along many articles and books in recent weeks and fit reading into the stolen moments before appointments or waiting for children. As Lisa commented, it has been like a deep breath, a long drink of water in a world which tends to spin faster and faster if you let it. In the quiet all these ideas have had a chance to not just bounce around and compete with all the other words but to settle and take root. Despite the daunting pace there has been peace.

A couple of Marsha Johnson’s articles have made me pause, in particular her thoughts about speech. She writes about coming to an intersection and noticing that every other person had a cell phone pressed to a head. Talking, talking. She asks:

“…we talk and talk, more and more,
words flow like raindrops or snowflakes, a flurry flood of words, a
gush of utterances, a rushing tide of chattering sounds….but are we
saying more?”

It brings to mind the explosion of words in our world. There is not just one local paper to read but several, as well as national and international publications. There is not just one news program but countless. Yet are we truly more informed? There are websites, blogs, and “of the making of books there is no end”. There are cell phones ringing and texting. There are Ipods, car radios, and home theater systems yet do we have more meaningful relationships with artists and composers?

Some of those things have undoubtedly been a blessing. When my husband is far away I am grateful to be able to hear him say goodnight. I am blessed to be able to wish him a happy birthday when he is across the country. (Happy Birthday!! I love you!) Still, some days all that combined input is a barrage and it is a relief to sit and watch the sun rise over the prairie in absolute silence like I do many mornings.

Marsha encourages us think about our contribution to the clamor, to savor words rather than devour them. To share them deliberately as a gift, versus distributing them randomly and constantly; to distill our speech and to:

“make speech ‘count’, to be significant in our thoughts that we express to our children and each other.
Use your words like pearls…….we have a habit to chatter, chatter,chatter,
blather, blab, talk to death, run off at the mouth,
overspeak, fill up space and time with vocalizations!”

Being significant in our thoughts not only renders those thoughts more precious but it gives us a chance to really chew on ideas before sending them back out into the world. Silence gives us the opportunity to listen authentically.

She also suggests that we slow down when we speak. Allow room for children to really hear and to ask questions after due consideration. She advises us to discern the type of words we use and to vary them. Bring poetry into our homes, particularly for transition times such as clean up or readying to leave. Thus you can have a familiar, nonthreatening exchange versus a torrent of words which may be met with a shower of protest.

“Punctuate your days with blessings.”

Say a prayer upon waking, when you sit for meals, when you send your children off, when you tuck them in bed, when you clean the house you were blessed with. When we are busy the tendency is to speak faster, more harshly. Blessing doesn’t come as easily. We are prone to rattle off versus being deliberate. Intake is not much better. We gobble down information without the necessary time to really assimilate. Slowly down our own speech helps to combat that frenzy and make even abundant times meaningful versus dreadful.

So this has been the challenge – to be deliberate and discerning. What kinds of input do we really want or need? Which add meaning and blessing and which fill up our lives with tension? Are we taking the time to truly understand what we read and hear? Are we allowing silence so we can let those words grow in us? That all takes time. There is no way around that part. We can read faster, type faster, but we can’t contemplate any faster. You can’t force that. You must allow silence if you wish to live deliberately.

“Readers are plentiful, thinkers are rare.” Anthony Burgess

“Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow…” Lawrence Clark Powell

“A sage thing is timely silence, and better than any speech.
“Silence at the proper season is wisdom, and better than any speech.” Plutarch

“My father gave me these hints on speech-making: “Be sincere… be brief… be seated.” James Roosevelt

“All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.” Robert Louis Stevenson

He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words. Elbert Hubbard