The Good Kind of Silence

"October 3, 2006

Eccl 3:4 …a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,

Dear Friends,

I’ve missed you and I’ve missed that my schedule has been so busy that I haven’t found the time to write. This CaringBridge silence is different. This silence was because of 2 football practices, 3 football games, a homecoming dance, 2 parties, 2 sleep-overs, and a trip to the lake all in the same weekend! This was a good kind of silence!"

Every time I write a post for this blog (and I'll be the first to admit that that isn't often...) I'm reminded of my mother. Now, most things remind me of my mother: springtime, singing birds, pink hydrangeas (anything pink really), Hostess Snoballs, red velvet cupcakes, car picnics to Sonic on a sweltering Texas day... I could go on and on.

But writing a blog reminds me of her for less glamorous reasons. In November of 2005, our family found ourselves flung into unspeakable tragedy, and my mother spent many of those long, lonely hours in the hospital writing a blog. One hundred and eighteen days in the hospital gives you a lot of time to pray and think and cry and scream, and we did all of that for sure, but my mother also wrote. My exhausted, devastated mother would let her tears flow freely at the hospital computer, tie her sweater around her neck like an '80's movie prep, and spend hours figuring out how to make the font of her heartbreaking entries pink Curlz MT.

I've poured over her words in the years since. They've inspired me and humbled me and created a kinship between us that I don't think she'll ever understand. And this season of my life reminds me so much of her words.

The blog was a website called CaringBridge- a platform for families and loved ones to stay connected regarding medical developments and uncertainties. In her entries, she often spoke about "CaringBridge silence". It was a cavernous black hole of a time where the days blurred together and no news was not good news. There are many entries apologizing for "CaringBridge silence" and many where it goes unmentioned, but those that lived it can see it between the lines.

But the entry I'm reminded of today is the one I included above. The silence on my blog is the same as hers was in October of 2006: a different kind of silence. A good kind of silence. A silence filled with planning and prayers and friends and opportunities and things that shake the cobwebs from our brain. It doesn't mean the world is perfect, that there isn't still worry and grief and busyness that makes your head spin, but it's a silence that is full rather than empty.

So thank you, Mom. Thank you for filling my loud moments, and my quiet ones, with your words and your heart.

This is a good kind of silence. And I'm sure more is coming.