I’m so grateful for silence this week.
It’s necessary to my sanity.
I got to escape to the woods on Saturday for some quiet time.
A silent prayer retreat with friends from church.
My favorite part of the camp was a prayer garden that was a path deep into the woods with lots of little spots along the way inviting you to stop and be still.
Even with 40 women, there was plenty of space to get off and be alone.
We went to bed giggling Friday night and got up hushed in the morning.
We ate breakfast without speaking, passing each other with nods and shy smiles.
Then we all went our own ways to be alone until the sun was high and the our tummies were growling.
What a gift on Mother’s Day weekend to get to soak up the presence of God outside.
We were given lists of Scriptures to go through if we chose. After studying Isaiah at BSF this year, I loved reading back through Isaiah 55.
Such tender, healing words.
We read so many more phrases just bursting with God’s love.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3
And from Jeremiah 31, bits of promises and hope
shout for joy
mourning to gladness
joy instead of sorrow
After lunch, several people shared the different ways God spoke to their hearts during the silence.
It was precious to hear.
And to see the light of God on the faces of other women.
So many had not had the space to be quiet for a long, long time.
It’s amazing what just a few hours will do for your soul.
Here’s my list of all the ways I’m grateful for silence:
For a long extended time alone at a picnic table in the woods.
For time to lie on my back in the dirt and look up at the trees, leaves sparkling.
For electric green moss.
For still waters.
For God’s precious words, newly jumping from the onion skin pages as though they were just for me.
For sunshine on my face.
For other women, so many beautiful women.
For remembering my camera.
For how really bad coffee makes me so grateful for the coffee I get to drink at home.
For Sandy’s sharing from her heart, reminding us that it’s so much harder to hold on to Jesus with all the distraction we have in our first world culture.
For milkshakes from a country road dairy.
For coming home.