Friday, December 3, 2010
On the way home from my parents' house on Wednesday morning, I actually drove almost the entire two-hours-plus trip home with no radio playing. It was nearly silence. My five-year-old was talking to herself in the backseat, my three-year-old had conked out early, and my nearly six-month-old gave the occasional coo or fuss—at which point, his awake sister would ever-so-helpfully start singing rather loudly and crazily, to his big-grinned enjoyment. Total silence, it wasn't
I noticed that I hadn't turned on the radio about an hour into the trip. A reflex twitched inside of me. Reach for the knob?
It dawned on me that I was perfectly content with the lack of auditory entertainment at that moment. Why not enjoy it while it lasted? I continued on in that relative silence of my minivan, sailing along the highway, trees and farms whizzing by, thin eddies of dry snow swirling on the road in front of me, then breaking up as we flew through them. Did they reform behind me? I tried to glance in the mirror, but I couldn't tell. My mind moved to other things now forgotten. But the hushed momentum of the moment sustains me.
Molly has a great post up about silence. During this busy, loud season, she's been reflecting on Fr. Hopko's list of 55 Maxims for Christian Living. Her hushed words posted on her refreshingly simple online oasis sustain me too.