This post was typed in Word one day last week when I had no internet/no electricity and couldn't upload to my blog.
I’m sitting here in a VERY quiet house. Quiet time for my littles is normally from 2 to 4 and most days I’m insistent that they participate in it. So yes, my littles are having quiet time at just this moment but, my house is exceptionally quiet for another reason.
My electricity is off.
Not only are my children quiet but my house has no “hum”. There is no hum from the refrigerator or the air conditioner. The fan on the computer is not steadily puttering away in the background and the clock’s tick-tock is silent. There are no ceiling fans turning and the phone is in a comatose state as well.
My house is super quiet.
It’s so quiet that I notice it. The silence is almost deafening. And isn’t that sad?...
Is this how we live? So used to noise that we are surprised by the absence of it? So accustomed to a steady hum of busyness that we don’t notice it until it’s gone?
Today, for awhile, my house is unplugged. My bill is paid (I did call to check :) and the weather is good today, so it appears that we are just benefitting from a plain ‘ole outage for no-good-reason.
There is good in this though. I can hear the bird outside my window. I can hear my son clear his throat in his sleep. I can hear the faint sound of an airplane passing by miles above the earth. I can hear myself think. I can hear Jesus.
Oh how I know that I must make time to unplug from the daily grind and busyness of life so that I can sense that I am truly here, truly alive, truly and completely aware of what I am feeling and thinking, truly in the present.
The electricity will eventually come back on. The question is will I purposely do the work of “unplugging” on a regular basis so that I never get accustomed to the “hum” of a life lived lacking intention, purpose, or clarity.
Thank you Lord for a lesson today in rest, quiet, and a sense of peace. Never let me forget that even when you walked this earth, you regularly “unplugged” and made time for rest, time alone, and communion with the Father.