From the Past: 23 September 2014 Silence, Part I

In fall 2014 I began adjuncting after teaching high school for 17 years. I desperately needed a break. This series will examine my ramblings while I had my students write for a particular amount of time during the first year I taught composition. These will be curated.

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The breaking point. Do we pray? Do we stare uncomfortably? How do I remain quiet when I am not used to being quiet? How does one simply be? Of course, God IS. I AM. That is the essence of being. How do I time that which is timeless, that which works both inside and outside of time?

This could be just a start for someone, but it could be the middle as it is for me, or it could be the end of something for someone else. How do we unplug? How do we not hear that which is around us all the time. I am still able to absent myself. I have a non-smart phone, so I cannot get the Internet and texting is not easy. Sound actually is painful to me sometimes, so I’ll ride in my car without the radio on. Just my thoughts and me. But how do we, as a Christian community, teach this concept of absence to those who NEVER are absent? How do we even teach it to our children who may not understand the importance of not watching TV, not playing a video game, of not having a soccer game to go to?

Burning. That could be because I’m sick, but that’s what I feel at the moment. In my heart, a burning. For absence? For youth? Not that my youth was all that great, but there were times when I learned a lot about God and my relationship to him. Why burning? fear? crying? The crying part I understand. I’m sick, and the sickness is in my eyes, which makes them water.