I sit down to write this post - the theme of Quiet - and I push back my chair, walk away, pace through the day, go to sleep, wake up and come back. I keep coming back, but words elude me. Five minutes have passed, five hundred times, and still I wait.
My fingers are quiet, but friends, my heart is all but quiet here. I wait for Quiet.
These days, I think of Quiet - and I think, immediately, of Love. I don't know why, but those two, together, they seem to me a dissonant pair.
My love is too quiet in all the ways it needs to be loud, and too loud in times it needs to speak just above a whisper. And this, my heart knows, is dissonance.
I think of the painful poetry of the Love Chapter, so beautifully recited at weddings, ironically impossible. How we can think that loud actions equal loud love, when really, any actions done without love are only loud actions - proverbial fingernails on chalkboard, clanging cymbal in a string symphony. And yet love in quiet service can be wonderfully, beautifully loud.
I ponder these things, on my knees, scrubbing grime from kitchen floors as tears pour down and I'm asking God to scrub the grime from this calloused heart and teach me to love this Quiet-loud. Because I don't know, I just don't know how.
There is a love that must die to self that it might come back to life, and only One who can bring back from the dead, and so I pray for faith to lay me down in quiet and be raised up to live the lovely loud - because this death is only the beginning of love.
Because there is no other way to love.
*This post is part of Five-Minute Fridays and the community of writers linking up at Lisa Jo's blog.