Still & Silent
Consent to silence. Engage in stillness.
It sounds so easy. Postures and intentions for a more contemplative approach to prayer. My soul waits in silence for God only. Be still and know that I am God. Verses I know by heart. Ideas that resonate deep within me. It sounds so easy and it's bitterly hard.
I wasn't prepared for how much motherhood would feel like an assault on my inner sanctum, the castle of my mind. I've built beautiful walls to keep the outside world at bay. I know when to go internal to protect my mind and my heart. Because the world is loud. It's loud and it's bright and it's too much.
So are kids. They are bright and loud and they wonder and they touch. And my heart wants to let them in. My brain wants to run and hide and dig a moat around that inner castle. Maybe post a guard or two.
The assault snuck up on me. When they were babies, I recognized my introversion at work when I shied away from playdates, opting to stay home and snuggle in blissful silence. Now they're older and staying home doesn't stop the invasion of outside thoughts and feelings. Instead, to bottles it up and mixes it with the pent up energy and the youthful aggression of siblings who love each other literally to the pain.
The school year is nearly done and I'm dreading the endless bickering and fighting and kicking and biting. These vicious little things are the loves of life, but how will I keep my sanity AND keep them alive? I avoid Best Buy because of the sensory overload. I can't avoid the beautiful chaos of raising creative, intelligent, curious kids. I don't want to avoid it. I want to press in and be present and I don't know how.
So I've been soul-searching and digging into who I am and why I am and what it means for two kids I want desperately to mother well and also desperately want to escape at times. Consent to silence. Engage in stillness. Let down the walls. Stop trying so hard.
It sounds so easy.
Things of worth don't come easy. They require risk and uncertainty. They require pain and honesty.
Consent to silence. Engage in stillness.
I'm working on it.
It sounds so easy. Postures and intentions for a more contemplative approach to prayer. My soul waits in silence for God only. Be still and know that I am God. Verses I know by heart. Ideas that resonate deep within me. It sounds so easy and it's bitterly hard.
I wasn't prepared for how much motherhood would feel like an assault on my inner sanctum, the castle of my mind. I've built beautiful walls to keep the outside world at bay. I know when to go internal to protect my mind and my heart. Because the world is loud. It's loud and it's bright and it's too much.
So are kids. They are bright and loud and they wonder and they touch. And my heart wants to let them in. My brain wants to run and hide and dig a moat around that inner castle. Maybe post a guard or two.
The assault snuck up on me. When they were babies, I recognized my introversion at work when I shied away from playdates, opting to stay home and snuggle in blissful silence. Now they're older and staying home doesn't stop the invasion of outside thoughts and feelings. Instead, to bottles it up and mixes it with the pent up energy and the youthful aggression of siblings who love each other literally to the pain.
The school year is nearly done and I'm dreading the endless bickering and fighting and kicking and biting. These vicious little things are the loves of life, but how will I keep my sanity AND keep them alive? I avoid Best Buy because of the sensory overload. I can't avoid the beautiful chaos of raising creative, intelligent, curious kids. I don't want to avoid it. I want to press in and be present and I don't know how.
So I've been soul-searching and digging into who I am and why I am and what it means for two kids I want desperately to mother well and also desperately want to escape at times. Consent to silence. Engage in stillness. Let down the walls. Stop trying so hard.
It sounds so easy.
Things of worth don't come easy. They require risk and uncertainty. They require pain and honesty.
Consent to silence. Engage in stillness.
I'm working on it.
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