God’s silence.
Songbirds are singing merrily. A lone cricket chirps in high grass. Tree branches and wildflowers sway in the light breeze but the trees nearby haven’t leafed out enough for the leaves to rustle in the breeze. I can occasionally hear the roar of the wind at higher altitudes.
The fine mist is accumulating on the new leaves and there are sporadic plonks on the roof of the Explorer when a leaf tilts downward and releases a drop of rain.
A lone Ford pickup truck breaks the silence but the hiss of its tires on wet pavement is soon gone.
I am sitting in a pull-off near Crocus Creek, but not close enough to the creek to hear the music of running water. I come here frequently because of the silence. No traffic noise. No voices to be heard. No radios or sirens disrupting the peace. God’s peace.
Today I need this peace. Cleaning, sorting, finding memories of Greg -- notes he had written, his work clipboard holding samples of some of the last things he printed, a tedious printed piece he had been proud of -- all combined to bring tears.
Tears that dampened the day as much as the intermittent rain outside the shop. I am not in the depths of grief that I have endured in the past few months, but felt that it wouldn’t take much to push me over that edge. So I drove to this silent spot.
I am sad, for my darling Greg is no longer in my life. The silent peace has leveled out my emotions so that the threat of tears isn’t as imminent as it was an hour ago.
The greens of Spring, the touch of the breeze, even the cawing of distant crows contribute to my peace.
I miss Greg more than I can ever say, my heart aches from his loss, and I know there will be many more times that I will experience grief so wrenching that I won’t know if I will survive it.
Today God’s silence has restored peace to my day, brought me away from tears for the moment, while I listen to the patter of a lively Spring rain that just now started.
I will seek this silent peace many times in the years to come.
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