Fall near

Musings from a fall day a few years ago...

In the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, in a small house with a lot of people. Inside it is hot and noisy with conversation. Outside there is a cool fall morning; yellow leaves, red poison ivy, misty and quiet.

 I need quiet and calm. I need to be near God.

There is very little human sound outside. In fact, my own steps and movements of clothing seem a rude interruption. So I sit on a narrow, winding strip of blacktop smack in the middle of the road. This is where the sounds and sights greet me.

Owls, chickadees, crows, cooper’s hawks, blue jays, flickers, pileated woodpeckers, turkeys, titmice, catbirds, chipmunks, kingfishers, chipping sparrows, spider webs, sassafras bark, redbuds, leaves falling, nuts dropping, goats with bells, and cows mooing. Nature can be noisy.

A hillside covered with trees, thick foliage, but a single yellow leaf falling draws my eyes. A bird jumps from branch to limb. Tiny movements, tiny sounds.

Silence isn’t so. Is there ever silence? How can one silence the voice in one’s mind? If there is an absolute absence of external sound, the voice in one’s mind seems exceedingly loud. There is no way to stop that sound.

So, how does one guide the inner voice to whisper, to express only valuable words or thoughts? To stay focused on the purpose before one? For me that purpose is to listen for and be aware of God’s presence. But my own inner voice interrupts, makes inappropriate comments, strives to change the subject, yammers about nothing particular, and has the attention span of a five year old.

Controlling my inner voice is difficult. It’s like there are two personalities in there; the inner child who just loves to talk and have attention, and the inner adult who tries to keep control. Often the child wins, and often it is the child who learns something fascinating; the way a dew drop magnifies the veins on a leaf, the pollen-filled legs of a bumblebee, tiny yellow flowers and small purple asters in the ditch. But always, the adult is listening for a deeper meaning; where is God in the small stuff, do I magnify God in my life, am I carrying the pollen of the gospel?

Everyone decides to go on a walk; some run, some walk, some ride. I walk but linger behind the happily noisy group until they are far enough ahead and I can no longer hear them. Again trying to find space to be alone with God. 

If I can’t see, hear, smell, taste or touch God, with what sense do I know Him? How do I become aware of Him?

And right there, in that moment, the Spirit whispers to both my inner-perpetual-motion-child and my seeking-calm-and-purpose-adult that it’s a "soul-sense"

the Spirit of God within that is in tune with the Father

who provides the awesome sense that 

bestows the inner surety that 

when I am still

silent 

and seek to draw near to God, 

I will discover that

God…is…always…near.