I’ve recently come back from a week long retreat at St. Gertrude’s Monastery in Cottonwood. When possible, I give myself this gift in January after the holiday craziness.   Regretfully, I couldn’t go last year because other commitments pulled me away and so I was more than excited to return to the beauty of the Camas prairie.   The retreat is called “Come to the Quiet” and is exactly that – a call to silence for seven days. When I tell this to friends, their response is similar: “Not talk for a whole week? I couldn’t do that! No way! How do you do it?” Some of them infer they’d love to do something similar, but…

During the retreat we’re encouraged to leave all the busyness behind and to seek God in silence, in prayer and in community. There’s no casual conversation with one another and except for times with one of the retreat directors – or chapel prayer, my mouth stays closed. That’s not easy for when my mouth stops, I hear my mind’s exceedingly intrusive clamor. It’s the noise of myself living in a fallen world. Most of us talk a lot because we’re trying to drown out the ceaseless mind chatter.

The first silent retreat I attended,  I’d loaded my car with books, computer, journals and just in case I got bored, a huge prayer shawl to knit. My director wisely suggested I leave all the excess in the car. She did allow me my Bible, my writing and a bit of knitting. The monastery has two well stocked libraries for books, the Internet was sketchy and at the time I didn’t have an I-phone. I did not need a thing to do!

It usually takes several days for me to unwind and come into silence. One of the hardest adjustments is having communal meals without talking. There’s plenty of dining room noise: silverware and dishes clattering, carrots crunching, me discreetly blowing my nose, soup being slurped. Every tiny noise is exaggerated and funny when there are a dozen people eating together. Even harder is returning to my room at 6:00 p.m. after dinner and evening prayer. Suddenly there’s a huge block of time before bed. What to do with it? No television, no phones, no music! The quiet becomes huge. It is scary for some because our noisy world has desensitized us to believe we need to deafen ourselves with more and more sound. Being silent in my room at night brings forces me to face my dependency on noise pollution and my  escapism.

I go for walks on the hills surrounding the monastery or  simply sit, watching the panoramic sunrises and cloud- infused heavens. An art room is for playing. One year I made a constellation in my bedroom with yarn and paper. Another time I cut dozens of tissue paper snow flakes and made big messes. Snipping, painting and making messes with my hands releases creativity God has given me, an artistry usually buried. About midway through the week something happens. Silence deepens into Presence. Answers come. I learn to wade through the clatter and the chatter and to seek God’s small, still Voice instead. It’s the Voice heard by Elijah and the One spoken of so beautifully in Psalm 46 :

Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

In my present season of transition, God’s Word encourages. I really don’t know what to do except be still for a while and wait. My experience during the retreat confirms that. I played but also  listened more deeply. I wrote a lot and returned with insights and direction. If there was no other Scripture to inspire me, Psalm 46 would suffice.

It tells what to do and how to do it . Be. Calm down. Quit wiggling. God speaks to the restless, jittery soul, just like a parent would remind an overactive child to sit down. It gives the reason for stillness… to know. The purpose of quiet and stillness is to know God in the Biblical sense. It is to find deep intimacy with a Person, not with an idea of a person and then it identifies who that Person is… God, the great I AM. It’s the tender Voice of Jesus rising in the heart, calling us to listen.

Friede