It was a day many years ago. It was soon after my husband had left. I was still trying to manage life without him, while trying to build a life for my children and I. It was probably still in the first month and there were so many changes, pains, chaos. I was pretty much a bundle of nerves, trying so hard to be a faithful, loving wife and a good mother through the pain. But I clearly didn't know what the future would hold.
I remember coming home early from work and sitting on my front porch, realizing the trees were beginning to change to brilliant colors. I remember feeling like I missing life--the real important moments--the glory of the sunset, the laughter in my children, the love of a friend, that only a month before I lived for. I was enveloped in grief. Even though it was still hard to pray, I began saying breath prayers--a one sentence chant, so I could connect with God and feel His presence. "Thank you for never leaving." It struck me that I didn't want to miss the beauty of this warm September afternoon. My sons and I packed sandwiches and drinks and went to the park. They played on the playground and we fed the ducks at the lake. For the first time in a long time, I was really engaged in the moment. I struggled to take my focus off the pain and just enjoy and savor the gift of the moment. And I know just then God was speaking.
I knelt down and adjusted Andrew's (my youngest, who was 3) jacket and put his hood on. He smiled so brightly then, as I gazed into his saucer-sized crystal blue eyes. My older son, Kevin was running ahead, throwing a ball up in the sky, full of vigor. Andrew, the quieter spirit, just content to grab for my hand. He pulled me down motioning that he had a secret. And so softly, almost inaudibly, he said, "Please don't leave, Mommy." It occurred to me that if I hadn't been listening, if I had been rushing or preoccupied, I wouldn't have heard the cry of his heart. I've thought of that moment a million times. It's one of the photographic memories I file away, recalling it to remind me to listen.
And the gift of my children, especially in managing through difficult times and leading to the teenage years, have taught me to truly listen. Because sometimes they'll say something I need to hear. Or sometimes the words are not there, but I can sense the feeling or through some acting out, identify the fear. As I went through some of those times, it was the family and friends who were just willing to listen that gave me the greatest sense of peace.
I think, for me, Lent is a perfect time to slow down and listen. Listen to the rhythms of your life, listen to the longings in your heart, listen to the sorrows in your soul. Keep quiet for awhile and observe. Bathe yourself in a sunrise at the beach, or a quiet walk through the forest. Connect with God in a new way. Don't jump to conclusions and offer a "fix" for a friend. Listen intently, and have the patience to know that only God may understand the burdens they are carrying. Listen to what is said. Listen for what is not said. Sometimes in my prayer life I wonder: Am I just doing all the talking--pouring my heart out, but not giving enough attention to God's heart and His response? Am I listening for God's whispers to my heart?
Hands down, my favorite Christian author is Frederick Buechner. When I first read his writings, I was immediately drawn in to his depth of understanding of the Christian faith and the clear, gentle, flowing way he describes so many issues of faith. He enters in the deep and complex rhythms of the soul with such simplicity.
This quote on listening to God by Buechner is one of my favorites: "If God speaks anywhere, it is into our personal lives that God speaks. Someone we love dies. Some unforeseen act of kindness or cruelty touches the heart or makes the blood turn cold. We fail a friend or a friend fails us and we are appalled at the capacity we all have for estranging the very people in our lives we need most. Or maybe nothing extraordinary happens at all--just one day following another. We sleep and dream. We wake. We work. We remember and we forget. We have fun and are depressed. And into the thick of it, or out of the thick of it, God speaks. God speaks and the words are incarnate in the flesh and blood of ourselves and of our own footsore and sacred journeys. Listen for God."
I love the solemness of Lent. It truly is a time for me to take stock, to look deep below the surface, to examine my soul, to spend time in God's Word, in prayer, in solitude. To slow down enough to let the chaos and noise of life subside, to be intentional about listening to my life. And listening for my God.
No comments:
Post a Comment