Silence Gifts

 

Inspired by the author, Ann Voscamp ( "A Thousand Gifts"), as well as Scripture, a friend from a group I fellowship with on a regular basis posts a prompt for every day in the month of November for us to reflect on this time of the year.

I Thessalonians 5:16-18 “ Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

Here is today's prompt: Name three gifts found in silence. The three things below were my response.

The flutter of a butterfly wing. The Holy Spirit’s direction. Silence in and of itself.

Thought I’d write more on my blog today. 

Have you ever heard it? A butterfly wing—the movement of air and delicate powdery wings overhead? When I sit alongside my butterfly garden, especially in the spring when there are frequently more than one butterfly, I can hear it. It is a sound of freedom, of rebirth, of meeting a goal, a purposeful fulfillment of the master plan in do diligence of a greater will, magnificent metamorphic creation! 

Sometimes the Holy Spirit’s voice is very obvious and loud and we celebrate in corporate worship and song. But, sometimes, the voice of the Spirit is gentle in our quiet hearts, in our pleading and privileged prayers or in between the lines of God’s Word—a personal revealing direction to go ahead or most of the time, to wait and to trust. There is a strength that comes from this silence. Trusting in Him has its own sound; it is a sigh, a release of anxiety, a movement of debris so we can sit comfortably under the Rock, shut the doors of the Fortress from the world’s thoughts and ideas minus a sovereign God.

Sometimes, silence is a lonely feeling. One can miss the noise of a loved one gone, or working from home instead of the office, or just when there are no words to justify a wrong action or deep hurt. But silence can bring a reflection, an insight we may not have heard in the world’s rumble and continued banter of perceived truth. Silence in itself is a gift, because it is just that--noticed. We can use our other senses to take in more—stand in awe at the sight of God’s beauty in Creation, appreciate more of the tangible gifts we use every day and blessed by, that we can touch and share with others-- a soft cheek of a toddler, the pie dough coming together in our palms, the ding of a notification from a friend who shares how your story led them to see… hear God in a new way. We can taste the satisfaction, the swallowing and digesting of God’s Holy Plan and most importantly, the fullness in submission, the surrender to that plan in trust. The air around us fills our lungs and we breathe and smell the difference between what is rotten and what is righteous.

Gifts in silence are not silent.

They are loud explosions of love in our hearts that God is Good and that He loves us in our loud messy days and in our quiet humble moments. In silence is where are strength is increased.

Psalm 62:5-6 "My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I shall not be shaken."

And isn’t it just like God to grant me grace upon amazing grace as I finish these last few words, that my stereo is now playing a classic Christmas song by Bing Crosby, “Silent Night.”

Gifts in silence are Holy.  Oh, Hear His Voice in the silence of your own soul my friends. It is a beautiful moment going into all of eternity. 

All is calm, all is bright.

Peace, Coleene

A " Holey" Assignment

Remembering Tim on what would have been his 29^th Birthday.

Joshua 1: 13b  …The Lord your God gives you rest…

I am a celestial being, created by the Father.  More specifically, I am a guardian angel; those that God assigns to earth to stay one ahead of you humans.  God only knows how much you need us sometimes.  We don’t always look like little cherubs on Renaissance paintings.  Sometimes we come in different forms, even inanimate objects.  I would like to share about one particular assignment I had. 

My boss told me one day after waiting for quite sometime for a new assignment, that he finally had one for me, and that it would be a challenge.  OK, I thought, how hard could it be?  I was with that missionary family for a long time in the jungles of Brazil.  Then I was with this soldier while he was in the Middle East. What could be more challenging than that?  Well, I would have to go, and take on a different appearance and be prepared for some rough stuff.  I would accept my assignment, knowing whatever God had in mind, it would be important and that He would always be the Boss. 

So, here I am, a soft, cuddly, generic, yellow receiving blanket, wrapped in a box and about to be presented to a very pregnant young woman. There were other blankets too, but I was special.  Soon, I was folded nicely and placed on top of the changing table, awaiting the arrival of my special assignment. 

A few weeks later, he arrived into this world.  I was ready to do my job.  At first, some of the other blankets were being used, but as the nights grew a little cooler, I was soon covering the little behind and shoulders of this precious little boy as he lay slumbering in his bassinette next to mom.  We were so warm together and I really liked this part of my job.   Soon I began to take on this tiny soul's baby smells; some good, some not so good. I would occasionally go into the washing machine and dryer...sort of like a baptism (as my Boss would say).  The mommy was breast feeding and sometimes I went along too, covering and protecting.  Within a few short months, his little hands were grasping and tugging at me.  It gave me great joy as I felt our bonding begin. 

When he was about four months old, we moved into the big crib.  While there, I was surrounded by colorful stuffed animals and mobiles and balloons. The little one was definitely a thumb sucker and before long, a piece of my corner was clasped in his little chubby palm next to his sucking mouth.  The sound was like music to me, so sweet.  By this time, I was it.  I was THE blanket, the one that went everywhere, that calmed and delighted. 

 

I got to go on a plane to Hawaii when the boy was only one, dragged around on the black sand beaches, smelling of coconut oil lotion.  There were times though when I did have a rough go of it.  I can't count how many times I have been spit up on.  Then he started eating real food...well you know...I was always close by getting some form of something disgusting on me.  Thus the baptisms became much more frequent and I began to lose my youthful appearance.  One time the mom asked the doctor, concerned about the thumb sucking and the need for me to always be around.  The Doctor was very smart and told the mommy that I was a calming factor in this little boy's hyperactive life.  Of course, I knew that!   It certainly wasn’t long before this toddler was able to talk, in fact, I was soon called  "Naw-nees,” and I seemed the only force around that would quite this precocious little boy. 

As he grew older, I was still around.  By this time I had many holes and was quite frayed, but we were a team. The thumb sucking had stopped, but I was there, under his nose when he grew irritable and cranky, scared and sick, anxious and overtired.  When he longed for calmness in a mind that raced with hyperactivity, my smell eased his tensions.

  I know mommy and daddy appreciated me very much because sometimes things were hard for this little man.  Eventually, as he grew into a young man, I “retired" so to say, my job accomplished and I went back to heaven.  God said I helped a little boy and a mommy and daddy have very sweet memories.  My frayed threads remain on earth though as a reminder of God's Peace and calmness that He brings. 

The blanket today is in a box of "Timmy Memories."  I do though have at my bedside a small memorial collage, a bowl with his wallet, a tiny piece of his blanket, his cleat adjuster for his golf shoes, a putters manual his grandma Joyce gave him and his Nike wrist band.  The ceramic angel container contains the baby teeth of my kids.  The tooth fairy always gave them back to me.

Blogging Exponentially

I am now a "Blogger". Whoo-hoo...At first I thought that it meant that every few days or so, I would post some of my thoughts and writings down somewhere here in cyberspace and I would get all these comments from strangers and maybe some editor somewhere will "discover" me and I would be swept away into the publishing world, making a living at a recently unearthed passion that has taken on this new life; me as a real life, respected, legit writer. Don't misunderstand me here, I am happy with the articles I have chosen and the comments I have received, (although more comments have come through my regular e-mail). What has happened though is not what I expected. There is another whole world out there of Blog-GERS and their BLOGS. So, I have been reading, clicking, reading, clicking, bookmarking, downloading, reading more, commenting, reading, and commenting...you get the idea. It's like looking through a Kaleidoscope, the more I turn the viewer, the more I search, click and read, and the more anxious I am of what may appear next in this magic window of opportunity. I have been blessed by some amazing stories of every day insightfulness of God's love and existence in lives, many creative and encouraging people and more of a view of life in this great country of ours. For so many years I did nothing to further develop my artistic talent and had locked the "storyteller" away in a basement somewhere. In one of my blogs I speak metaphorically about my "etchings on the wall". It took some time to get reacquainted with both the artist and the writer and we had to meet in such a foreign land, but I feel we are all best friends now, integrating into the child God wants for me; living a purpose-filled life.

Everyone knows my writing has been therapeutic. Why is that? Why does making up stories or putting my thoughts down on paper, help me overcome my daily sadness, the ache in my heart? It is because I need to tell you what I know, I need to tell you its OK, I need to tell you that you are loved, loved so perfectly that it overrides all fear, all suffering, all doubts, all evil. It is not my words on paper that have revealed this to me, but God's Spirit through His words as I have allowed Him to use me, inspire me, and bring me to a place of peace. Christ looks down on this broken soul, cups his hands, scoops out that pain in my heart, places it onto the cross in which He died and allows His promise of hope, allows all the sweet memories, allows my giftedness which He has given me, fill the void left. There is too much, so it spills out, like a little kid pouring his milk from "the big carton" into the glass, like the jelly squirting out the sides of a donut, like the packed snowfall on a mountainside ready to cascade down. Giving is healing.

My desire for you is not to read my blog, but to understand that you have a heart as well that God desires to make whole. We are made in His image to glorify Him and He has gifted us all to do that in unique ways. As I click and read and post and blog and my blessings from God continue to expand exponentially, the one place I desire for you to "bookmark" is your own relationship with God. Go to him on a more frequent basis, scroll around his sight to see what he offers, download His love into your own heart and upload to others the Hope and Joy He gives to those willing to log off of their own agenda.

Psalm 139:1-6 O Lord, Thou hast searched me and known me. Thou dost know when I sit down and when I rise up; Thou dost understand my thoughts from afar. Thou dost scrutinize my path and my lying down, and art intimately acquainted with all my ways, even before there is a word on my tongue.