And sometimes, the same thing happens when I visit some of your blogs. I read your thoughts and marvel, and begin to formulate great replies, but then the words don’t make it to the keyboard. That’s when I wish your monitor were a window, too. And I could tap on the glass with my nail-bitten finger and wave when you looked up. I’m still here, looking in on you.
Then I stopped to think about what I have been doing instead of writing, and I realized the time away from words may have actually been a gift. The past few months have afforded me hundreds of hours outside planting flowers, mowing grass, picking tomoatoes, and spreading mulch. My dog, Precious, and I have logged many laps around the park and the neighborhood, and my new bicycle has joined the 200 mile club (or at least qualifies if there were such an organization). I have laughed hard and cried hard. Some of my relationships with people have deepened to a new level, and others have drifted away.
It’s fall now, and I’ve been thinking in paragraphs again. A good sign that the words should be back soon. But in the meantime, these experiences have provided a hidden window that the words could not. As I looked through them, I saw the Lord and He has seen me.
Though painful, at times, and a bit unusual, it’s been a worthwhile season.
睡眠呼吸机
伟康呼吸机
呼吸机
无创呼吸机
家用呼吸机
呼吸机的使用
Thought I’d tuck this in down here. You’ve been tagged for a history demonstration. Play only if you like and are up to it. Actually, I thought you might like a reason to write about other things. Whatever you wish, okay?
[whistling] Nope, didn’t see a thing. But Craver did stop me on the street to talk dandelions.
Tap, tap, crack.
Yikes!
(running away)
Just tapping. And smiling.
And I’ve been telling this kind of thing to other people too. You really are a trendsetter.
Rich –So good to hear from you. I miss you guys too, and think of you often. I’ll have to take you up on a visit soon.
Ted — I like your theory and practice of blogging. The Lord uses in people’s lives as a means of grace. Sometimes that grace flows by simply providing a good word every day.
A Musing — Hhhmmmm . . . Glad someone else feels the same way.
Shlomo — Thanks for stopping by.
B”H
Hi Charity,
Glad to see a new post and proof that you are indeed, sill here with us.
Blessings,
Shlomo
I absolutely love your window image. So many times I too sit in silence after reading a blog entry. Many of the blogs I frequent blow my mind and get me thinking so hard (yours included) that all I can articulate is a “hmmm…”.
Glad you’re still around. : )
Charity,
Just let it flow naturally, but yeah, you’re right, it’s easy to get in a rut or in a place in which we’re out of practice and rusty. Though I really feel in over my head every day. But I just let it go, knowing it comes from a flawed person, and it’s most certainly flawed itself, though I try to do the best I can in the time I have. But I want to trust God to use a humble, imperfect post to help myself and others, by his grace.
First… you bit your fingernails too? I’ve given up on trying to quit. I figure there are a million worse habits. Or at least a hundred. (And did you know that nail biters may be classified as “cutters” in some sociological studies? So I’ve heard anyway.)
Also, the whole “Just tapping” is a great nonthreatening way to let people know you dropped by. I may start using that.
LL — Wow, I’ve never thought of myself as a trendsetter. But hey, I like it! I think a “Tap, Tap” might communicate the presence sufficiently. “Here at the window” seems good too!
Craver — Thanks for your kind words, and I’m so glad others understand my hesitation to comment. Sometimes, it’s pride. I want to have the best comment or none at all. Sometimes it’s truly just the wordlessness I’ve described. And no, you’re not crazy. That was me tapping!
Christianne — Your comment intrigued me. I have felt a bit like an outsider this summer in our little community of blogging friends and colleagues. It’s so helpful to me to know that though these relationships depend on the posts and comments to continue, they also create bonds that move beyond those conditions. We become a part of each others lives, in a sense, through both our words and our wordlessness. And I’ve been keeping up on your life and times. I’m so excited for where God is taking you.
Charity, good to have you back! I wish I didn’t feel like one of those relationships drifting away, but time and distance pull a hamstring on keeping in touch. Just know we (the Vincent family) think of you often with fondness. Come up and visit anytime… seriously! We have the best cheese, beer, and football fans in the world!
Spaghettie Pie — Yes, Invitation to Silence and Solitude is wonderful. Ruth Haley Barton is one of my new favorite authors in the past few years. Her more recent book, Sacred Rhythms, also is great. More of the same, but a wider platform. I read The Rest of God this summer by Mark Buchanan on Sabbath keeping, and among the many wonderful points he made, he talked about the parts of God we experience only when we come to him in quiet and rest. That has definitely been an aspect of my summer. (Though He and I have done a good amount of wrestling as well!)
Ted — I hope I can bring some consistency here again. It’s a bit daunting trying to reestablish the habit of daily writing and regular blogging.
LL — It really was/is a mixed experience. I have discovered that I can tie my identity a little too closely to what I want to my life to be as a writer. Stripping that a way for a season was important in reestablishing who I am apart from what I do.
Erin — Good to hear from you. I hope that the new SPS study is going well. I liked your thoughts on our rush to blog all the things we’re learning. And I think that may have been an important part of my silence this summer — some of the things I’ve been learning and growing in have been so deeply personal, I haven’t been sure how to write those for a general audience. I do think we need to revisit the Little Mermaid discussion. Perhaps we’ll have to tag-blog on the subject.
I’ve been musing. I think you may have created a wonderful image we could use for a kind of shorthand, to say “I’m here, just wordless”, when we want our fellow bloggers to know we’re here but silent.
I throw it out to the crowd here. What might we say? “Just tapping”? Or “Here at the window”? Or something else? Of course, any newcomers to our blogs would wonder what this is all about, but they’d pick it up I think.
Anyway. You may just be the next bloggy trendsetter!
Thanks so much for sharing this thought, Charity. This might sound funny, or strange, or just plain weird, but I have thought often of you when I am feeling this way in my own life — when I haven’t blogged in a while because I just don’t have anything to say or feel like putting my feelings or thoughts into public view isn’t really the best way to hold those feelings and thoughts gently — and knowing that you often wait to write things here until you are really ready to do so, really gives me inspiration. It encourages me. It helps me treasure my own heart and not just force something to happen that isn’t ready or wanting to happen. I’m glad you’re “back,” but even more glad you’ve been doing what you’ve needed to do. And I loved hearing how you have been filling the interim time!
It’s strange, wanting to comment, but not knowing what to say or how to say it. We are still here, and we love you, Sister.
And they said the finger tapping from the other side of my monitor was all in my head…
I have completely missed reading your wise thoughts, particularly as reading your blog has greatly influenced my life of late (with my focus on stewardship). . . BUT I also love that I am learning even from your season of silence. Interesting, if not the least bit ironic, that I was just pondering the concept of silence today. I heard about a book (Invitation to Silence and Solitude) that I’m adding to my reading list. I imagine you’ve already read it. . .Anyway, a lot of words to say: Glad you’re back.
Well I sure did miss you, but it’s not like I’m a foreigner to what you’re describing. I’m actually really glad that you had the self-control (or imposed control?) to remain silent and fallow for a season. Perhaps those thoughts were meant to be shared with God alone. Or Precious. Or your flesh-and-blood friends.
Rushing to the blogosphere with every new insight and discovery has a certain tabloid aspect to it. “This just in… another unconfirmed, untested, unproven unformulated, unarticulated thought! Exclusive photos! Hot off the presses! Get it while it’s hot!”
I didn’t mind your silence at all. But I have been thinking about The Little Mermaid all summer. 😉 Perhaps we can revisit that conversation.
Your window image in this post is lovely. It works very well.
What a beautiful reflection, on what was clearly a mixed experience… joy and sorrow in wordlessness. It really is good to hear your voice again though, and good to hear, too, that you’ve been at the window.
Charity,
So good to hear from you again. A wordless season! I could use some of that. Good to hear of the good things you did and experienced during this time.