I sat overlooking LT last week watching the clouds, talking with God and listening to the silence. I sat on a rock and dared the crashing waves of lake to reach me all along aware of the cresendo of noise they made hitting the rocks. I stood on a hill looking over the lake listening to the wind rushing through the trees. I sat beneath trees, my legs resting on a log listening to the sound of the snow hitting the open journal in my lap (which maybe means that it was more like snow/hail than just regular snow...but there was definitely a sound). I stood on a log in a lake listening to the sound of others throwing rocks into the lake. I woke up listening to the waves crashing, rain hitting the roof and silly little birds chirping "cheese-burger".
I sat in a circle of people listening to their stories, their experiences with God, hearing their heartache, pain and joy. I heard myself saying words that I didn't know I had been thinking. I heard my own voice crack with pain, realization, fear and hope. I listened to the noise in my own head, the sounds of my own heart, the hope and pain in my own soul and realized...not my plans, God's plans. Not my hopes, God's hopes. Not my dreams, God's dreams. Not my life, God's life.
Whoever said that silence is golden, really needs to be kicked in the shins. It's messy, it's complicated and allows God way too much space to actually start talking. I'm just sayin'.