Tag Archives: Silence

In Search of Silver Linings During the COVID-19 Pandemic

25 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by in Acceptance, Blessings, Change, Coronavirus, COVID-19, Family life, Motherhood, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Rest, Seasons, Simple Living, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days, Truth of Heart

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“How many times have you noticed that it’s the little quiet moments in the midst of life that seem to give the rest extra-special meaning?” ― Fred Rogers

 

I live in Ohio and where Governor DeWine and Dr. Amy Acton have mandated a stay-at-home order to ensure that we are all doing our part in taking the social distancing seriously, working together to flatten out the curve and lessen the spread of the Coronavirus. These are uncertain, strange, anxiety-inducing, incredible times we are living in. Each and every one of you must be feeling your own wave of emotions with each passing day. It has been overwhelming, to say the least, that we’ve had to simultaneously just stop life and automatically become something or someone we never imagined or intended to be. We’ve been asked to jump on board without little preparation to turn rooms of our homes into make-shift offices and multi-leveled classrooms, have lost income and precious resources, and halted our livelihoods and meaningful recreation. Our stability and emotional composure feels wobbly and uncertain, at best. We’re all in this together, we are. I have hope that we will get through this, and that the drastic measures put into place will get us through the worst of it and save as many lives as possible.

Last week, my children had their first week of online learning. Their schools are honoring spring break this week, as planned. On Monday, we will start up once again for virtual schooling, until we receive the okay to return to their dearly missed school buildings, classrooms, teachers, and friends. Who knows how much longer this quarantine will remain in place? If I had a hunch, this will be the new norm for the foreseeable future.

On Monday, I felt long lulls of boredom and a few moments of anger, exasperation, sadness, and stress. Today, I’m feeling better. After sleeping in a bit, then finishing my morning reading, I realized that I’ve been in serious, get-things-done mode, cleaning a bit obsessively, putting my family first, and resorting to neglecting myself. Other than sticking to my daily walks, everything I have been focused on has been related to the upkeep and re-organization of our home, schooling, the health and well-being of my loved ones near and far—all without a break or alone time built-in for myself. So, as I’ve set a loose schedule for my kids, I’ve also set a loose schedule for myself, one where I am prioritizing well-being over doing.

One of my best friends asked me yesterday about my “silver linings” in all of this craziness. To be honest, there has been an abundance of good despite the hardships that have arisen because of the many, great changes. These small glimmers of hope are sustaining me through the tough, isolating moments. When I witness, first-hand, the resiliency of all my children and their good-nature despite cancelled plans and missing their beloved friends, classmates, teachers, and schools, it sets hope straight out in the forefront, and a newfound awareness that my kids will be alright, they’ve got this, they’re going to be better for having gone through it all together. When I can literally see my husband work so diligently at supporting his family, it causes a surge of love and appreciation, gratitude and relief within me. When all of us can join together around the table for meals without anywhere to go, except to the cabinet for another board game or card game once we’ve finished our meal, our family bond is fusing together stronger and happier than ever before. When my kids automatically run for great lengths once we reach the path paved along the perimeter of the neighborhood we live in, I see the natural runners they were born to be. Phone calls and texts to loved ones are on the increase. Letters and cards are being sent and received. Creativity and stress-relief are soaring. Out in nature multiple times a day, our bodies are healthier and leaner. Sleep comes more easily, and as I arise each new morning it feels like a blessed miracle; an ever-precious phenomena.

If you are reading this, then my hope for you is that you are able to seek out your own silver linings and threads of welcome joy, and feel peace during these uncertain times.

 

“We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.” – Joseph Campbell

Resting in the Stillness After Personal Struggle

03 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by in Acceptance, Ash Wednesday, Blessings, Catholic Parenting, Change, Childhood Mood Disorders, Family life, Forgiveness, Journaling, Lent, Love, Motherhood, Parenting, Parenting a Child with Special Needs, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Prayer, Prayers, Rest, Seasons, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days, Truth of Heart

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Silence, I learned, is some times the most beautiful sound.” 
― Charlotte Eriksson

“Slowly, simply, silence, stillness” was my Lenten mantra, my focus, my goal for the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter morning. A lofty goal, yes. Yet, I was convinced this intentional journey would yield the peaceful rewards I was seeking in my personal life. Of all my Lenten fasts, in comparison to all my past sacrifices, in judging the level of self-denial I’ve deliberately imposed on myself, this year’s “halt of self” has been the most challenging in refinement of my mind, body, and spirit.

Do you trust the silence? Or, are you a skeptic of stillness, like I tend to be?

Have you found a way to rest in the stillness? Do you ever allow yourself the chance to rest your weary mind and bones?

Do you welcome in the peace? Or, are you prone to catastrophising out of innate fear?

Have you lived out loud, with joy and freedom from the chains of your mind? Or, do you lurk along in misery, always waiting for the other shoe to drop?

The last three years, for me, have felt like an ultra-marathon, filled with hills and valleys of tears, running at a snail’s pace, feeling completely lost and unprepared for the race set before me, as I carried a weighted pack on my shoulders, trudging through mud, falling down too many times that I’ve lost track. Over the last few weeks, I have seen the finish line in sight and I’m eager, yet still so apprehensive, to finish the race and rest in the notion that the biggest fight of my life thus far, is finally done. I am having a difficult time accepting that the grueling miles I’ve run have amounted to much more than having run a race I was thrown into, without adequate preparation. Now that my desperate pleas and prayers seem to be answered, it’s difficult to switch gears to a place where it’s time to rest, recuperate, recover from the incredible feat I have just accomplished, emotionally.

For so very long now, I have carried that burdensome cross of mothering a struggling child without a compass, my headlamp dimmed, my resolve shaken and trampled on. Yet, here I rise. The truth is the only way I’ve survived the mountainous terrain of my parenting journey is that I’m finally allowing myself to let go of control. Though fears still grapple me with super-human strength, I am diligent in practicing how to breathe through them, pray through them, write through them, and further unloading them in dialogue with my amazing therapist, trying to leave them in that space between us, not letting them drag me to the floor once I return home.

I’ve practiced a lot of self-forgiveness as I’ve fallen flat on my face and the need to forgive and seek forgiveness will remain a focus in my life. Despite my missteps and mistakes, I can recognize that I am loving as best I can today, and have let those circumstances, hardships, and some relationships to just be, freely flying away to where they need to go—even if that means far away from me where I can no longer enact any type of chance to insert my will, my advice, my vision, or my control.

The most humbling lesson I’ve learned in the last three years is that it’s okay, preferable, actually, to let go of perfection and preconceived notions, allowing God to do His job, and to just love—myself, others, my family, strangers, my friends, and enemies—right where I am and right where they are, without expectation nor conditions to that love. Truth be told, it’s a difficult, often heart-wrenching choice, challenge, and cross to bear going on in love when you feel so beaten down and defeated by the compounding hardships of life. But, going on in love and patience, staying mindful to live each day as best as I can, choosing better than before, these new choices and changes only feel strange and unnatural for a time before the transformative lightness is shining from deep within my heart, mind, and soul, changing me for the better.

Slowly, simply, silence, stillness. This has been my Lenten focus and will remain my prayerful path going into the Easter season and throughout the remainder of this year. Hoping for heartfelt and mindful changes for you, me, and the world abound. Be at peace, friends.

“Whenever there is stillness there is the still small voice, God’s speaking from the whirlwind, nature’s old song, and dance…” 
― Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters