Silence.
It weighed on me like a heavy blanket, wrapping me tight and
holding me still in its embrace. I tried
not to move, to make any sound—to do so would break it into thousands of tiny
pieces, tinkling noisily as they fell to the floor. For some reason, I felt compelled to guard
this silence, to protect it in its very fragile state. To not do this somehow felt wrong. So quietly, I waited for silence to reach its
eventual end, for it always does. Then,
in that silence-shattering moment, I would be free from the spell and at last
be able to speak.
Well, that moment has come.
In those months that I waited in silence, I searched my
heart and mind, trying to find the right words to begin my story anew. My fingers hesitated, failing to grasp the
perfect opening line. My heart saddened,
realizing that there was no good way to begin this chapter. There is no glorious action scene, no heroic
rescue, no nail-biting scenario here; instead, this is a story about the normal
things in life. The daily hubbub that we
routinely, and sometimes absent-mindedly, trudge through. The filler scenes in the big adventures that
we’d rather skip.
Now don’t be deceived—I’ve come to this very blah place
quite on purpose. Some of you may ask
why. And sometimes maybe I’ll even be
able to give you a clever answer. But
really, I too wonder most days what I’m doing and where I’m going. A chapter in my life has ended, a very
exciting chapter I might add, and now I should be beginning the next chapter
(logically speaking anyway). But
instead, I find myself here, stuck it seems in between chapters. Like some lost pages out of a book, I feel at
times adrift and plotless.
I’ve waited. Oh, how
I’ve waited. And yet, I feel like my
next chapter hasn’t yet begun to be written.
Or maybe, it has a really slow
beginning, full of little setting details and character backgrounds. Maybe the chapter I’m in is one that sets up
the next chapter, bringing into focus new additions to an old tale.
Yes, I like this idea very much. New details for an old tale. Not at all a story that starts with, “In the
beginning”, but rather more like a sequel.
More like this:
It had been many years since Kelsey
had set foot on home soil without the intention of leaving it again. For Kelsey, the norm had become to live with
one foot out the door, living ever on the move.
She took pride in her vagabond ways, her wandering steps bringing her to
new and exciting places. But those days
were over, distant memories of a freer and more independent Kelsey. Today, today Kelsey was in the business of not moving.
Indeed, she was practicing the art of staying, a very new concept for
her. A new concept that was proving to
be quite the challenge. With thoughts of
faraway lands often filling her mind, she struggled with keeping her focus on
the present. She tried very hard to find
daily joys that brought a smile to her face, things that made her happy. Some days that was an easy task; other days
were harder and lonelier. Quite quickly,
Kelsey began to realize that in order to master this art of staying, she needed
to learn endurance. Problem was, Kelsey
was a sprinter at heart. Oh, how do you teach a sprinter to run a
marathon? Disappointingly, there was no
step-by-step guide to teach Kelsey how to rapidly gain the skill of
endurance. Indeed, a list such as that
would be too much of a temptation for her to conquer each step as fast as she
could! Instead, God had a different sort
of lesson in store for her, one to deeply teach her the skill of endurance and,
in turn, the art of staying. God was
making Kelsey wait. Wait and wait and
wait and, in the end, wait some more. He
wasn’t telling her what she was waiting for—no, there was no end in sight for
this marathon. Instead, he was asking her
to continually wait in faith, believing that God did have an end in store for
her even if she couldn’t see it. Day by
day, this marathon continued, requiring Kelsey to search deep within her and
find the strength to put one foot in front of the other. Some days, she did this with ease; others,
she begged God to give her strength or, if he was feeling generous, to make it
stop. Her marathon continues, to this
very day. Tired and weary, Kelsey runs on,
holding on to a hope that the end is near.
Oh, please, let the end be near!
