The Sound of Silence

In Bible Study we somehow got around to talking about how we don't spend enough time in silence before God. That early morning prayer time with God the Father is obedience, because the Christ did that.

I asked everyone to make a determination to start doing this today, which I did.

When we went into corporal worship, the preacher preached on stillness and silence before God.

I think he had his ear pressed up against our door.

As he was talking yesterday, I realized that a lot of times when I am silent, my head begins to write, and characters begin to speak, and I watch a scene unfold before me.

That has bothered me some. But God speaks to us in different ways, and I believe He has given me the gift of story telling, and He has to give the stories first.

Anyway, this morning I sat on the back porch, read the 3rd Psalm, read about the 3rd Psalm, and asked  God to speak to me.

I took off my glasses and was engulfed by a Monet painting - everything became fused together, the leaves dreamily soft, the dogwoods reds blending with the greens. The lipstick red geranium's one bloom shimmered before me.

And sounds became louder, more distinct. The birds chattering to one another, the squirrels arguing over something, the wind bustling through the leaves.

I love Monet's work.

And it came because of a visual disability that grew worse with time.

That startled me.

You see, I have had a hard time with my own disability. I have seen no good come from it, no one helped, no wisdom gleaned.

But I never wrote a book until I was in excruciating pain and unable to stay in bed and sleep.

I don't think I'd ever moved to that place, instead I would have kept working with my short stores and my poems and my essays.

My books may  not be great literature, but I do know for a fact they have brought laughter and tears to many, and I have been told folks have been blessed by something I have shared through the stories in my books.

So, finally, maybe, I have stumbled upon something.

Maybe my disability slowed me down enough to do what God had in mind all along.

Food for thought, that.