Silence can be hard to find. Cell phones and text messages demand our immediate attention; internet messages pop up when we’re trying to focus on a project to say, “You’ve got mail!” or “________ updated their status!” (That always makes me feel lazy and behind the curve and I’m not even sure why…) Everywhere you go there’s a television set on… Restaurants, doctor’s offices, heck, anymore you can’t even fuel your car without watching TV. We have hundreds of channels and it’s still hard to find anything worth watching. YouTube knows just what we like and creates a play list for us before we even ask while Google shows us viewpoints it’s sure we’ll agree with. (How frightening is THAT!? I thought it was a “search engine!” not an “opinion validator.”) Any way…
Silence is hard to find. But as a Mom with a son leaping through the adulthood portal, never to return to his childhood, I was determined to find it. Because I wanted to share conversation with him. I didn’t just want to, I needed to. I needed time to discuss life and I wanted to ensure that no text message would interrupt us with its frantic chirping. So I booked a cruise. A luxurious indulgence at first glance, but I wish to defend it as a necessity for a solo parent launching a man into a world that increasingly makes no damn sense.
For four days nothing interrupted our quiet passage through this life-portal. We read, we ate good food, we talked about life: Mine, his, the future that sits waiting for us both. We watched the Gulf of Mexico float by from our balcony like a giant infinity pool and visited the ancient ruins of the Mayans at Tulum. We marveled at both the complexity and simplicity of their 9-month calendar and organized society. The ground we stood on was developed into a walled city 3,000 years before Christ. The ancientness of the ruins gave breath to our discussions of family and in-laws and futures and life-partners and children yet to be born.
And in those four days of sacred silence (broken only by 80’s dance music from the party deck of the ship and the “whoo-whoo!” of sorority girls on break) we renewed old bonds as mother and son and built new ones as adult friends. He tried a pina-colada as we watched the sunset and gave it an acronym: WGW (White Girl Wasted). “Whoo-whoo!” We spent almost an hour watching the sun set. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve done that. Our hearts were communing – no words were necessary.
So, now that I’m back on land, I think this idea of sacred silence is a keeper. To carve out some time in our lives where nothing is allowed to interrupt the deep thoughts of our hearts is to honor our humanity. An electronic holiday is a most delightful and refreshing thing!
As our interactions with one another become more distant and driven by technology instead of iced-tea and a rocking chair, sacred silence has never been more valuable or needed. Give it a try. After all, you’re not an electronic receiver, you’re a human being…honor that.
And speaking of honor, how are you honoring your widow’s journey? How you honor yourself on this journey determines a lot about your future. I’d be happy to talk with you about the Widow’s Recovery System. It’s helped lots of women recover and do wonder-full things! Click here to reserve your personal call! It’s completely free.