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Could everybody just be quiet??

Yesterday, Dark-haired Daughter and Youngest Son (the only two kids currently residing at home) stayed after Mass for youth group and a hay ride. Dear Husband was folding laundry and I sat down to knit, until the cat curled up into my lap. I switched to reading as the preferred hobby, made it through about three sentences and then napped for an hour.

The house was silent. Quiet. Blissful.

Even if you have only one kid, you know how noisy a house can be. There's a tv on, music going, people talking (or bickering, if you have more than one kid), just noise in general. To have a house that was quiet was incredible. Having the cat curled up on my lap kicked it up a notch: peace.

Funny how much I enjoyed that quiet, yet I'm still struggling with a God whose "first language is silence", according to St. John of the Cross. I pour out my prayers and wait. He is good, but He is still.

I am not as frustrated as I was awhile ago with this. Maybe part of that is because my depression has eased, and that sense of hopelessness that came with it has gone. But I still yearn to hear God, and He in His goodness and wisdom withholds His voice from me.

Catherine de Hueck Doherty, who knew a thing or two about prayer and suffering, said, "Listen to God’s speech in his wondrous, terrible, gentle, loving, all-embracing silence." Tough task.

I wish I could have that piece of peace that I had for a short while yesterday afternoon: a cat on my lap, a big old chair embracing me, an afghan around my shoulders, and rest. Maybe that was God - a few moments of stillness, and He surrounded me.


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