I just got home from a Women’s Spirituality Retreat.  I am always amazed at the gifts I receive during this weekend once a year.  I think my favorite part was my date with God… 

 Most days, I wake at 5 am.  No matter the time I go to bed, my eyes spring open at five and usually, I am fully awake bounding from bed to my office – my mind flooded with ideas…But this past weekend, I didn’t bring my work with me on retreat.  Instead of working at five, I crept from my room (as to not wake my sleeping roommate) and went to me main meeting area where there were these huge windows over looking the Rocky Mountains. 

 It was quiet.  Only me.  I plopped down in front of the windows in a comfy chair with a book and knitting in hand - just in case.  I looked out the window into the darkness beyond.  There were clouds in the sky, yet there was single star twinkling, calling to me, reminding me to whom I belong…

 Without conscious thinking I began to pray aloud, over and over repeating my gratitude for my life, my family, my work, my clients…and most importantly knowing God.  Suddenly I was a child again, tears streaming down my face – not from sadness, but release, even joy to be here in this moment. 

 In my mind, I heard the voice, tender and fatherly, “This is our time, our date…me and you, my beloved child.”  Warmth spread through my body and I noticed the faint glow of sunrise beckoning from just behind the powerful mountains.  Aaaahhh, this was our time and I settled even more deeply into my chair as to watch God’s glorious spectacle unfold.

 The sky, very slowly, began to brighten and the clouds became brilliant with orange, pink, red, purple, yellow…I pulled my chair even closer to the windows - to get a better view, and that is when I noticed the floating, glittering snow flakes…I was reminded that sometimes your have to change your position to see all the glittering magic before you.  Grateful tears again.

 I was surprised at how slowly the sunrise blossomed.  Again I was reminded about time…Time is man’s invention, but with God, it is without measure.  I had slipped into God’s time, grace – moment’s stretching into hours…We had all the time in the world.

 I sat transfixed, blessed and humble.  I watched the clouds change from orange to yellow to purple…on and on the abundant colors flooded my vision.  What surprised me most was when the sun finally did come up, most of the other colors disappeared.  The clouds turned almost a steel gray, drained of their vibrant colors.  The colors had gone home, returned again to from which they came – the fiery sun. 

 I was reminded to enjoy the journey even before the prize.  And I heard the tender voice again, “This is our time, my beloved. Come, rest in me any time. I am always here.  I am here.” 

 I bowed my head, humbled by the love that poured out for me, always.  Love born not because I did something special, or achieved something great, but because, I am.  Simply.  Purely.  Divinely.  I am. 

Everyday we are bombarded with a noisy world.  Something is always buzzing in the background.  The so-called soundtrack of your life whether it is the radio, the hum of computers and appliances, planes flying overhead, the voices of others – it is constant.  We are ourselves uncomfortable with silence as we fill the quiet spaces in natural conversation with mindless chatter – embarrassed by the silent lapses.

The constant noise around me sometimes draws me into its endless spinning.  I become like the sounds around me – constantly vibrating and moving, not listening.  I become so fixated on my sound and my moving that I forget to stop.  I become so fixated on the “I,” the Ego, that I forget to trust.  I become my own God – I am in charge, I can do it all - forsaking my true God in service of my Ego.

This is when I fall.  Somehow, something happens and I am reminded to stop and listen.  I see the Psalms of the Old Testament, “Be still and know that I am God,” and I remember I am the beloved child of God, and no one shall ever separate me from this knowledge.  A certain peace washes over me.  I am amused again to see my feet of clay that never do go away, but reappear again and again in new ways teaching me compassion.

In this humbled state, I am able to sit in the silence and know I am not alone.  This quiet does not call me to fill it with my own chatter, my own ego, but the silence draws me closer to my own longing to be whole.

When I meditate with this truth, this longing to be connected with a living God, I hear the silence talking to me - inviting me into the fullness of my life with opportunities and people who suddenly materialize as if by magic.  God is great and sometimes you need to provide the space, the silence, for a living God to speak directly to you.  May you discover the silence is waiting for you too, calling you to peace.