Listening - Day 3

 

My heart is heavy, noise so loud, voices fighting to be heard above the other. Will anyone listen? Will anyone help? Does anyone see? Does anyone care?

I step outside myself, balloons in hand, I go outside to the fresh coolness of late afternoon. As I release each one laden with prayer, it is carried away by the gentle breeze, traveling upward to heaven. The weight on my shoulders is too heavy to carry. It was never intended to be so. The balloons will symbolically be my release of each burden. Up, up, one by one they float to Jesus who says "Come...."

As the last balloon leaves my fingers, I feel peace.

Listening - Day 2

Somehow I thought nighttime would be a great time to sit quietly, alone in the darkness, listening. Near the close of day, peaceful, still, but not so. It has been a long day, a physical one, working and cleaning. My belly is full. My mind ready to receive. But, it wasn't that way. As I attempted to settle myself comfortably in my rocker beside the window, my body tensed up, and I found it impossible not to squirm. My legs became restless. It was not until I reclined on the floor and became still that I was able to settle down and begin to listen.

The mournful moaning of Thor, my neighbor's Alaskan Malamute, who is missing the company of Kodak, his female counterpart filled the night air.  Kodak recently had a litter of puppies, so she has been staying inside the house with the pups as they struggle to survive. I listen for a response, but I am unable to discern a reply to Thor's pleading. Even now, I continue to hear him cry into the night.

Insects tuning up for the all-night vigil of discourse in the forest night, second only to the monotony of insects buzzing inside my skull. I thought at one moment there was a short cadence as the sounds slowly collided into a swelling crescendo. I expected to hear the clasp of cymbals at any time. I may go completely insane of I keep up this practice.

Traffic was slower, as one would hope. Regardless of the hour, someone is always going somewhere at some time going who knows where.

I began to wonder if I needed to sit tall and erect in the lotus position to hear the voice I long to hear. Even so, I know He's here, and I'm not alone. I never am. Perhaps the lesson learned tonight is the incredible gift of calm at the close of an otherwise hectic day. The breeze, coolness after a warm, sunny day, is refreshing. The hope of gentle rainfall in the air. Gratitude for a day well-lived. Simple pleasures in the midst of conflicting and troubling news reports.

I am reminded of all the chaos in our nation, even close to home. Wildfires are still burning in California, devastation in the aftermath of Hurricane Dorian on the east coast and Bahamas. The missing five year old child playing outside her home, now missing, just fifteen miles up the road. The world is anything but calm, and my heart cries out. I saw a woman with her hair pulled back, thin, standing in the median with a sign that read "Help me." There's a lot of that in Espanola, and I wonder....

This morning in my daily quiet time I read these words: "Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, to all the people you can, as long as you can."

No flies this evening, only a solitary spider has woven its web in the corner of my kitchen wall adjacent to the stove. I decided to let it stay another night. Everything has its season.

Shutting down for the night now. Perhaps as I slip into a dreamless sleep, I can listen and hear if my mind remains quiet and my ears are attuned, my heart expectant.

Listening - Day 1

Have you ever taken the time away from your busy, ever-changing schedules just to sit and listen? We become so frantic in our daily coping, scheduling, arranging and re-arranging that we become numb to the sounds around us. In my case, I have become so busy asking for an answer to my trials that Jesus can't get in a word edgewise! I recently read about sitting an hour a day, quietly, without distractions, just listening, then write in a journal what I hear. The desired hearing, for me, would be an answer to a problem that gnaws at me each day and will until I find resolution. Thus, I decided to begin this practice. Brother Lawrence wrote a short treatise on The Practice of the Presence of God
ages ago. Of course Brother Lawrence was surrounded by silence, but still, he had to, as the title proclaims, practice.


My unrelenting noise in my head since my last head injury in 2016 is quite a distraction at times; however, I have been learning over the years to cope with it, just as I learned to deal with headaches and other chronic pain. A specialist tried to tell me that I had lost some hearing, probably because I am ancient in age, but the problem is not that I cannot hear, but rather, that I hear everything! My problems rests in the ability to discern from whence comes the other sounds or noises. I find it particularly challenging to try to listen for the voice of someone who is otherwise engaged behind a door where the washer or dryer are running, over the additional noises from television, air conditioner, and noisy neighbors above and outside. I fail miserably at times, but it is good practice, if you can call it that!

Today is a rather busy traffic day in the little hamlet of Velarde, New Mexico. No one ever obeys the traffic laws as they nod passing through, stopping only for a temporary repose at Mike's Mini Mart for gas or food from the little cafe. Otherwise, it is rather a sleepy little breeze through en-route to Taos or other pleasant retreats.

Hence, choosing to sit in my bedroom rocker, with window open, blinds drawn and curtains pulled to the side, I began Day 1. The highway runs past my little county road, and I live a skip and hop off that road. It's rather quiet here, and what amazed me was that in spite of the busy traffic, I could still feel and hear the silence around this little property. The neighbor's dog, Kenya, who was my constant companion recently died, leaving behind a chasm that cannot be filled. One of their other dogs, Shadow, a pit bull who has terrorized my flower garden repeatedly, remains on a constant vigil. It seems he feels it is his duty to protect me and show some semblance of love and affection during this time of grief. I must say that the little fellow is growing on me with all his snorting and heavy breathing. Somehow I feel that my CPAP would benefit him more. I've spoke with him about it, but he just snorts and lies down. Maybe that's what I should do.

Through the cacophony of noises I heard a symphony of bird calls, owls conversing, and baby birds cheeping from a nest located under my carport eaves. The sound of the wind rushing then the gentle breeze harmonizing with my wind chimes reminding me of God's Amazing Grace. My neighbors coming and going, and the soft chatter of hushed conversation carried across the yard. And no, I did not strain to hear what was being said!! The other senses were heightened during the exchange with smells of wind, trees,  and clean, fresh, mountain air. Fortunately I was not bothered by the two flies present as I am writing this blog, dive bombing around my head. Their minutes are numbered!

I rose from that hour of listening with a spirit of peace. After the hour was finished, I turned on the radio and heard Lauren Daigle singing her new release Rescue, and I knew it was God reassuring me once again that He has heard my pleas. Lauren sings:

You are not hidden
There's never been a moment
You were forgotten
You are not hopeless
Though you have been broken
Your innocence stolen .

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS, your SOS.

I will send out an army to find you
in the middle of the darkest night
Its' true, I will rescue you.

Coincidence that this song should be the first thing I hear playing softly in the background? No, I don't believe in coincidences, only blessings and the faithfulness of a loving Father.

Peace has returned. One fly down - the other on his way out!