SILENCE
By Dawn Wink
Submission to OneBranch.org
August 26, 2004
 My family and I drive along Highway 50, just south
of Gillette, Wyoming, headed back to California after spending a week in South Dakota
with my parent's on their cattle ranch. Craggy red earth contrasts against varying
tones of green grass out the van windows. Cows graze lazily in the warm sun, as their
calves can't decide weather to nurse or play under the clear blue sky. In
the backseat, my four-year-old son, Wyatt, cries for us to fix his car seat. Next
to him, nine-month-old daughter, Wynn, screams. Luke, two-year-old, whines. Nobody
sleeps.
'Out! Out! I want outtaheh!,' Luke yells and squirms against the straps of his carseat.
I write on.
All three kids are true travel troopers, but 24 hours in the car asks an awful lot
of them at their ages.
Both boys now sleep. Wynn cries on and on and on. She's covered much of northeastern
Wyoming now. We passed from the grassy plains and now move onto the sage-covered
flatlands. Bouts of silence now intersperse Wynn's cries. Ahh, down for the count.
She sleeps.
I never truly appreciated the beauty of silence until I became a parent. I simply
took it for granted as a natural part of life. Although I did learn to at least be
aware of it as an elementary school teacher. But, having no kids of my own yet, I
knew that as soon as I got home, I'd be enveloped in quiet. I opened the door to
my apartment and walked into my own little world. Like a steady companion, silence
waited for me, reliable, stable, and always there.
Needless to say, becoming a parent changes all that. Silence in my life now I savor
almost physically. Knowing it could end at any moment only adds to my enjoyment.
The feeling must be akin to a tryst in a somewhat public area. Possible interruptions
or discovery serve only to make the moment that much more tantalizing and succulent.
Naptime has become sacred time in our house. I practically bar the windows and doors.
Actually, I put a sticky note on the door saying, "We're asleep", with
the drawn face of a smiling sleeping baby. I turn off the ringer on the phone and
turn the answering machine volume to mute. Then, I make fresh coffee and the next
45 minutes are my time to write, plan, read, and dream.
Initially, I felt guilty for not cleaning or doing something more productive during
that time, but no more. Time to ground myself, re-charge my batteries, and visualize
my dreams remains the most productive activity I can do for my family.
Without silent time, opportunities to plan and dream during the day disappear among
the minute-by-minute busyness of being home with children.
I remember hearing an axiom 'Silence is golden'. To me, silence is a soft warm light
that I photosynthesize like a plant does sunlight.
As parents we must guard silence in our lives with fervor. By savoring silence, I
once again savor the joyful, and sometimes not so joyful, noise of our busy household.
Silence allows us to organize our lives. Moments of inspiration often occur to me
out of nowhere during silence. I pay attention.
Without silence, I mentally spin my wheels in deep sand; exerting more and more energy
and never moving ahead until I become too exhausted to even try anymore. Without
silence my life becomes an unorganized obstacle course I wander frantically, searching
for the exit sign, but finding only more detriments to my path. During the rare occasions
of silence in my life, I focus on flashes of inspiration. They keep me on course.
I know if I don't pay attention then, the chance could well be lost.
Silence rarely just happens in a child-filled home. Every once in a while it ascends
(a much more appropriate description than 'descends' I feel), like rare jewels in
the sand. For any regularity, silence must be created. In our house, this means getting
all three kids on the same nap and bedtime routine takes priority above all else.
Worth every ounce of effort, silence rewards us.
To create silence, I get up long before the sun, greeting the day in silence and
contemplation. Before I began ensuring quiet time to myself before the children woke
up, I felt I hit the floor running, perhaps stumbling would better describe the event
and never quite caught up with the day.
My soul craves silence. Denying that yearning affects my entire family. I become
irritable, grouchy, and withdrawn. We live our days minute-by-minute, instead of
within the flow of a greater plan. When I provide my soul's need for quiet, our world
falls back into place. My dreams become clear and achievable once more. By listening
to the guidance that comes in silence, the next tiny step on the path I’m meant to
take bubbles into my consciousness and gives me courage to keep going
Silence is golden. Golden as angel’s wings whispering by our ears as they provide
divine guidance. Golden as children's tousled heads waiting to be caressed and kissed.
Golden as Oz's famous yellow brick road, leading Dorothy, the Lion, the Scarecrow,
and the Tin Man toward realizing everything they ever wanted, they had within them
all along.
We just crossed over the North Platte River and continue our journey westward. All
three kids sleep. I gaze out the window at the rocky crags lining the winding path
of the river. I think I hear the whisper of angel's wings. Silence. |