The reverberations from his Harley diminish as he weaves through the curves to the roadway that will take him to Rocky Point, Mexico. I’m always a little raw on my husband’s weekend excursions from the perspective of safety – both his and mine. But as the minutes pass, my frazzled soul, tarnished from a retirement schedule that needs to breathe, settles in my heart as I settle in my chair. Cradling me is that silence, in a world that increasingly knows little of it.

While many demand stimulation and nonstop entertainment, I crave the quiet corners to steal away. For it’s in those places that my God speaks most clearly to me. But there is more. I can hear my own heart answering Him in a desire for obedience.  These niches create a space for my soul and spirit to be shaped in a way that only He can accomplish.

Jesus sought out places of silence to commune with His Father. If He needed it, how much more does this earthly vessel that I inhabit need to pause and refill, letting the silence wash over me, as I seek the face of my Father.

While the culture runs from one stimulation to another, it’s worth noting that it screams another message. Float spas, monastery retreats and massage therapists are scheduled to grab that elusive down time, if only for a little while.  Many seek the quality of “quiet” in a luxury car ride and we leisure at seaside as the crashing waves create a kind of white noise that soothes our ravaged senses.  To deny our need for silence is like denying our need for sustenance.

I’ve learned there is a battle that rages to “have me”, to dull my ears to the gentle whispers of my Creator who knows more of what I need than a world gone wrong. In that precious stolen silence, as an adoring child, I pull up a chair to sit with my King. Until He returns.

(This post is part of the weekly Five Minute Friday link-up!)

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