I hang on dearly to this blog because since embarking onto this process of writing every day, I have had my eyes opened. I have been much more aware of God's presence and I have been driven to seek and my mind has been busy with thoughts and questions and really, just more alive.
Once God has been seen and sensed in this way, the heart aches for more. And I know that I could find Him in other ways. But this has been such a major avenue in bringing me to a place I want desperately to be.
But there is a fine line. There are always fine lines in life. We are tightrope walkers, balancing gingerly between the right and the wrong. Whether it be motives, actions, thoughts, desires. And I am constantly praying, "Do not let me use you God. Use me. Let me not seek You for my own purposes, because really I haven't a clue what my own purposes are even to be."
I want fiercely to train my mind to be clear and open to hearing His voice without mistaking it for my own.
I can see why the draw for some to a monastery. To the quiet. To the inauguration of silence which then brings release and then finally His voice. It is a drastic measure intended in some ways, to silence the overpowering voice of this world. God's voice, remember is still and small. It is huge and thunderous when we look at Creation, when we witness a miracle of healing, when His fingerprints show up in obvious places but in the day to day it is small and still and it takes utmost concentration to hear it. And so I see the need to abhor the world. I want it to hush. And here is that fine line. I am here. In it all the time. And of course, I need to hear the voices of these all around me, these other, also, frail humans. Sometimes I need to cook dinner.
So then, it must become a regular practice of learning to do both, but not in the multitasking way mothers are so guilty of taking on, where we only half do anything, only half give our attention to any one thing, but rather in the way of welcoming His voice in the center of pandemonium, allowing it, in it's soft way, to somehow drown out all the needless noise.
Can I hear my children and cook dinner and play games with them and still listen to the still?