A student asked me today about learning better to punctuate what she writes. I found myself talking about commas–those little bits of ink that mark pauses as we think, write, and speak.
That got me thinking about what we do in the pauses of life. About what I do in the pauses of my life.
I remember reading something years ago–can’t remember if it was by Elisabeth Elliot or something someone else had written that she was sharing. Either way, the point was that, in music, the pauses–the rests–are just as integral to the music as the notes. Without the rests, there are compositions that would lose their drama. The rests are part of the music.
The rests are part of the music…
When there is a pause, my first impulse is too often to jump right in and speak. (In fact, I have to force myself to wait for the pause–have to work at not interrupting.) How much better if I would listen in the pauses. Would I hear more of another’s heart? Would I hear another’s idea that would turn mine to an entirely different, perhaps more productive or more creative, vein?
When there is a pause, do I look around in silent wonder? There is much to be seen. People are endlessly fascinating, and I don’t ever have to look far to notice. Would I be better at really seeing–really seeing–people if I silently observed in the pauses?
When there is a pause, do I savor the silence, the stillness? Or do I hurry to fill it with noise, with activity? That rush to fill every empty space can become an addiction.
I think I need to nurture a greater regard for commas.
Boy, do I hear you on this one, Amy. I, too, feel the urge to quickly fill in pauses. Stillness is HARD for me to endure many times…I get fidgety and uncomfortable. I wanna be active as often as possible and have been exhausting myself lately in the process, so driven to accomplish and be doing something that I find it hard to take breaks – even small ones. Harder still is the recent realization that I’m all tangled up in this, quite deeply, because I have associated accomplishment and success with my worth for a long, long time. Therefore, though not the reality of God’s truth and instead an example of me getting tripped up by false beliefs, I see my mistakes, failures, inactivity, and not getting something right on the first try as indicative of my lack of worth.
I know that, though it’s been painful and will continue to be so for awhile, that the timing of this newly discovered struggle is God’s. Less than 2 weeks after I hit a milestone in another area of my life, this new trial unearthed itself in my heart and mind thanks to a book my wise father saw fit to purchase and pass on to me. Being pruned hurts, sometimes hurts like crazy, but, rather than experience pain from a lack of Him, I’ll take pain from more of Him. The important things are these – do not complain and do not pity myself. I’m on my way…slowly.
Emily
Dear, Dear Emily–You are a beautifully growing blossom. Thanks for putting that moment’s thoughts into words. Love ya.
pauses…waiting…I’m thinking about this a lot. thinking about the times when those pauses lasted months and years. Times of being still (or not). I think I’m learning to appreciate those rests more and more.