It’s Thursday. It seems each day I have to try and figure out what day of the week it is. With isolation, and one day bleeding into another, and no points of reference, I never know what day of the week it is. So, I check my Iphone, my wall calendar, my date book to figure out where in the week we are. Today is Thursday. It used to be that Thursday meant the last possible day to make changes to the bulletin so it could be printed on Friday morning and folded Friday afternoon. Thursday meant the last scurry to gather up any announcements that needed to be inserted. The second and fourth Thursday of each month meant prepping for Women’s Morning Out, our biweekly Bible study group. And, of course, Thursday night was choir practice. That was then. This is now. I look at the calendar and cross off another day. Today is Thursday.
And it is April, which means we get every season of the year in as many days. So far this week we have had sun, wind, rain, and snow. Today the sky is a brilliant blue, the sun is bright and warm. Those two realities lured me outside for a stroll around my yard to check out the gardens and see what is happening there. The lilies are pushing up and the poppies are showing their green. But that is not all that impressed me this morning. It was the sounds. Well, really, it was the lack of noise and the presence of sounds. I think there is a difference.
I am one of those people who grew up with noise. I studied with the radio on. I still do most of my work with some background noise – radio, music, even television if there is something worth keeping an eye on. My beloved used to chide me that when I walked into a room I would turn on the radio before I would turn on the light. It was an exaggeration but only a slight one!
During this time of constant isolation and no face to face conversations I have become aware of noise, sounds and silence. When I stepped out this morning, into this bright sunshiny April morning, I listened. There is not much traffic noise where I live only an occasional car. I could hear a truck somewhere in the distance. I heard some birdsong and the chatter of a red squirrel. I could hear the crunch of shoes on gravel and turned to wave to my neighbour out walking his dog. I heard a door slam from somewhere down the street. But mostly I heard the sounds of silence.
The Sounds of Silence is a song, written by Paul Simon in 1964. In it he speaks of the lack of true deep communication between people. I wonder about the impact of this isolation time in regard to many things. Mostly I wonder how it will effect our gathering times when we are allowed to safely gather again. Will we listen differently or will we slip back into the same old routine? Will we hear sounds differently when the din of activity, traffic, construction, planes flying over has returned?
The Gospels mention throughout the telling of Jesus’ life that he would often go to a quiet place to pray. Even Jesus needed to escape the noise and people to have a time of silence. When I was a kid, when you entered the church on Sunday mornings you did not talk. Everyone sat quietly and prayed. That was how I first learned of prayer. Watching my mom and dad bow their heads and close their eyes as they waited for the service to begin, lost in the silence of meditation. We have drifted from that practice to the pre-service time being a time of gathering and conversation. I don’t think this is a bad thing but I also think it is nice to be able to preserve the sound of silence.
I am writing this with the radio off, no tv, no cd playing all I can hear is the hum of the refrigerator. And, to my surprise … so far I am doing fine without background noise.
Blessings to you as to listen your way through Thursday.
