I’m so grateful Summer is officially over. It lasted way too many long, hot, sunshiny days for me. Truly. (I live in the Pacific Northwest. I am allowed to complain about these things.) We did not get our reprieve with refreshing summer rains. There were no soft gray mornings to offset the cloudless days.
And why would I bemoan all that sunshine? It’s just too noisy. The clear blue skies and bright yellow days are like a music box all wound up—“come out, come play, join the fun!”
Just when the sound would fade away, the sun would come up with a new day—“hey there, let’s get busy!”
I found myself trying to keep up with all outdoor ‘music’ without a chance to rest and enjoy the sound of the wind and what discoveries I might hear.
Yes, I prefer the slower Fall weather, the subtler sounds of early sunsets, sleepy birds and a non-committal sky—maybe blue, maybe white……ahhhh, maybe orange. A sky of color that is winding down, not up, that invites me to savor and sit instead.
I’m thankful to have an opportunity to be intentional about listening well, to spending time to listen to the Spirit, to hear God’s voice in the season ahead.
The challenge? I am easily distracted and influenced by what’s going on around me. The connection of the interwebs makes it oh-so-easy to follow all the other sounds I hear.
I’m anxious to be known.
I want to be in the know.
I just think I need to know.
I check my Facebook page for status updates and photos. Click, click, click. Wandering without thinking over to read someone’s blog post. All those voices in my head—everyone else’s.
I can’t hear what I’m not listening for. I want to be intentional about setting aside time to draw near to God to listen to His song for me. I want to be part of the solution to the world’s pain and brokenness, play a melody that will help people pause, to wonder, to be healed.
I don’t want to be part of a noisy chorus. My voice will be drowned out.
The latest issue—Planned Parenthood’s selling of aborted babies—the callous killing of unborn children—is filling airspace and webspace and adding to all the noise. Twitter balloons with inflammatory comments, people take sides (I’ve been one of them), Facebook becomes a platform for comments, opinions and comebacks.
I am almost without words to speak to the horror of the issue; in fact, I took a stand several weeks ago.
However it has occurred to me that when there’s an argument, especially around such a volatile issue, when one’s mind is made up, it’s impossible to hear. People are not convinced to change due to an argument or attack.
It’s hands over the ears, “la-la-la”-ing in a sing-song voice, “I can’t hear you,” like a two year old.
I could write about the evils of Planned Parenthood’s practices, how sad I am about their continued funding via the government, how wrong their actions are, illegal, even….and in my world that would all be true.
But you already know that. You probably agree with me.
I would be preaching to the choir, as they say. And well, all that noise, remember?
Maybe I should consider this—next Saturday morning, after our local PP protest—I could walk across the street to the Starbuck’s, and instead of waving my sign as I pass by the drive-through, I could park the car, walk in and say hello.
While I order my double tall breve, maybe engage in a conversation with the gal at the counter. The one I met last month who’s named after a character in the TV show Dynasty—the girl who’s not married yet.
(I hope she’s not sick and tired of all us protestors, waving our signs, making all that noise. I pray that she’ll hear me.)
(I hope she’s not sick and tired of all us protestors, waving our signs, making all that noise. I pray that she’ll hear me.)
Maybe I can ask how she’s doing, find out if she needs anything for the unborn baby. Make a mental note to return and slip a gift card with her name on it into the Tip Jar.
Maybe I could tell her a corny story about her name—that it reminds of a song I like very much. It’s corny. She might laugh.
And maybe she’ll listen to the care in between the lines, to the hope in the words, to the possibility of a different story with a different song.
Maybe I can sing her that song; I pray that she’s listening.
Nancy, thank you for your prayers on mine and the barista's account. I'll let you know what transpires.
Carol, thank you for your kind words and encouragement. IT does take being intentional to listen, that is for sure. I do want to be like water poured out….
If this post were a conversation between us, Jody, I'd have to chime in–in a couple of places: 1) You like white skies? When our Washington State granddaughter was a toddler, and the clouds of spring finally cleared, she was quite surprised. “Mommy, the sky is blue!” she observed. “It's supposed to be white.” 2) I, too, am easily distracted. Perhaps that's why I reveled so in winter, our first year back in the Midwest. The cloistering provided the calm and quiet I need for full-souled contemplation. 3) Cheerfulness, thoughtfulness, hope, and generosity are surely the notes that create ethereal music for the world to hear–including your barista. I pray you'll be able to connect with her in ways that foster eternal results!
Such a glorious post. I love the one who is intentional about listening for God's song in their heart. I love the one who desires to be a vessel to deliver God's song to another with words of hope, thoughtful actions, a prayer. Thank you. – Carol Wilson