The Sound of Silence

These are the kittens my mom got.  I'm so jealous.  They are cousins of my cats Rosie and Garfield.  Bill assures me that if I were to get another cat he would buy some old clunker Cadillac to fix up. Enough said. I have another allergic friend who would certainly disown me as well.  So I'm adopting vicariously through my mother.  I take full credit for suggesting to her that these were possibly the two cutest cats I have ever seen in my life.  Plus--when you lose your husband and your mother in 15 months--like my mom did--you get a free pass to adopt as many pets as you need.  Especially fuzzy ones.

Back to the blog.  Well--almost--the top one is a girl and did you see those blue eyes???  The bottom orange one is a boy.  Jeepers his eyes are blue too. I'm in love.  I'm thinking "Dolly" and "Sunshine." Any better names floating out there?

Truly back to the blog. . . .

We've have a heck of a ride on the Polar Express.  We are just now exiting back into January and normal life.  This weekend we have nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.


Bill is gone this week and next week and come to think of it he was gone last week and the week before.  We knew this would be a crazy month.

Nothing.

He took me out for my birthday Monday night and gave me the sweetest gift.  Cash.  That is because he knows me.  He knows that in January I am in purge mode.  I don't want anything. I want to rent a dumpster and throw heaps of household stuff into it.  I need space.  Wide open space.  He also knows that come April those little pansy faces will be calling my name and I can greenhouse hop with very little guilt--using my birthday cash.  Thanks Bill.

Wide open spaces.  Silence.  Solitude.  You can't find any of these on the Polar Express--the proverbial Christmas train that we've been on since pre-advent.

Bill and I cleaned off the CD shelf this weekend.  Hasn't been done since I was pregnant with Calvin when we moved in.  He's ten.  It will be our 14 year wedding anniversary in March and I guess the marriage is going to work out and we can safely purge all the duplicate CDs from when we were single. One James Taylor greatest hits is enough.  All one hit wonders? Transferred to itunes.  I'm okay with working toward cyber music but musicians throwing piles of CDs into the garbage is still a tough pill to swallow. We were dirt poor when we bought those little gems. But, we did it.  We cleared space.  One small step toward mental health.  Next step: VHS tapes.

Space.  Silence.  Solitude.

We fill our lives and our shelves with music and conversation.  Sometimes we need to purge.

This week, when I have been in the car alone--after dropping the kids here and there and driving to meetings--I've kept the radio off. Feels funny. No "Holiday Traditions," no Christian contemporary, no Mahler Symphony, no talk radio. Silence.

How much I needed this--I didn't even know until I heard it.  All by myself in the car. Silence.

How quickly my mind turned to prayer.  And breathing.  The muscles in my neck and jaw relaxed--those ones that flair up when I let them.

Nothing.

To everything there is a season.  Here's to beautiful music.  Here's to conversation. Here's to the sound of silence.