Quietness

The house is so quiet it is almost unnerving. There aren’t several dogs milling around making toddler size messes, just my large black shepherd at my feet. My roommate and her fiancee’ have headed back up to minister to their mountain community. I almost turn the television on just for the background noise, but Abba speaks to my heart “embrace the quiet.”

So much change, and even good change can be painful. I wonder how to process the grief of loss, realizing that I have avoided that in many ways. How do I rejoice in what the Lord is doing while at the same time grieving the loss it brings? And how do I do this on my own?  If you had told me a year ago that this would be the path I would be walking I would have laughed. Yet here I am, my sister and companion fifty miles away pastoring a church and preparing to get married, me looking at buying a house and opening a ministry for women who have been displaced by toxic relationships. And still letting go of my hurts.

Unable to find my center. My homeostasis is a mess.

The change is good, I can sit in the quiet and KNOW this. The change still hurts, the quiet refuses to mask that. I acknowledge the voids I have filled in the wrong ways, asking God to show me better ways. I appreciate even more the evenings on the porch, processing with my sister girl all of life’s craziness, hurts, and blessings. I strive to embrace the stillness of my home, listening to the rain fall and the frogs serenade. I can’t see in this moment how this is preparing me for what is ahead, but I will. In His faithfulness my Abba has a purpose for learning to embrace this quiet, and I know that I am not alone.