For a Few Moments, Silence

I woke up at 5:00 a.m. this morning and made the mistake of looking outside. Not a cloud in the sky and the orange light on the horizon told me that soon the sun would rise. I was suddenly struck by the fact that not only has it been too long since I have seen a sunrise, but also that it is less than a month until I need to be back at school and looking at sunrises will, sadly, no longer be on my mind. So I am up. And I realize that looking outside wasn't a mistake at all.

I am also sitting next to an open window because I just don't hear quiet like this much anymore. The joy of our children getting older is that we all stay up late together in the summer, but that also means that we all sleep in. It seems that I go from noise to noise, and for the most part,I love it.

The noise of kids making up a game in the back yard with croquet sticks, the noise of music being played in what seems like every corner of the house each day ("go outside and play"), the noise of being told what is happening in the book they are reading (Harry Potter has made a return, and I am reading "Cutting for Stone"), the noise of everyone contributing to the morning crossword in the Vancouver Sun ("are there any fill in the blanks, those are easier for me"), and the noise of the coffee being made are but a few noises which fill my day, and in an odd way they are noises which give me deep peace.

That peace comes from watching youthful passions and lively interactions. Sometimes I can just watch my children fill the house and yard and with their loud, noisy beings and it gives me peace. They bring their true selves into each day, they hide nothing, each in their own way pronouncing that this is what it means to be fully alive in God's story, and I can take it or leave it. And of course I not only take it, I love it. And as best I can, I try to shape it and mold it. And as they get older and I hopefully get wiser, I realize how much of the molding and shaping and bending is happening to me, not because of me. And this morning I have deep, deep thanks for that.

But this morning I wanted silence, just for a few minutes. I hear the train on the tracks. An ambulance just went by. The cat is scratching at the door. The day is about to begin. Bring on the noise.

When I discover that I am accepted and loved as a person, with my strengths and weaknesses, when I discover that I carry within myself a secret, the secret of my uniqueness, then I can begin to open up to others and respect their secret.

Each human being, however small or weak, has something to bring to humanity. As we start to really get to know others, as we begin to listen to each other's stories, things begin to change. We begin the movement from exclusion to inclusion, from fear to trust, from closedness to openness, from judgment and prejudice to forgiveness and understanding. It is a movement of the heart.


Jean Vanier