Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. Psalm 46

I am on retreat this week at the beautiful Monastery of St. Gertrude in Cottonwood. It is a semi-annual retreat called “Come To the Quiet” wherein we come not only to a very quiet setting, but are invited to be silent ourselves. Several of my friends and family cannot fathom why I do this “You mean you don’t or can’t talk at all?” On the one hand they think it is weird, or I am. On the other hand there is a wistfulness in their expressed skepticism – as if thinking, “I wonder what it would be like to get away from Noise even for a day? Not sure about a full week, though.”

The first year I attended, it was hard to not only be quiet, but be still. There are no television, radio or football games blaring from the back room. When I came, I’d brought a car full of stuff to do: books to read, journals, legal pads of paper, old food bank files I never seemed to have time for and my five pound Bible. And my computer. I didn’t want to be bored . Bless my director’s heart. She advised me, quite strongly, to leave everything in the car and lock it up. She permitted the Bible. There are two well stocked libraries here for reading, a fully supplied craft room, quiet areas to sit and stare at the prairie sky, chapels to pray in and private bedrooms to ponder why I am here . In decent weather one can wander for hours on the monastery property enjoying the dense quiet of January snow or the wildflowers in June. The absence of outside noise allows one to pay closer attention to God’s beautiful creation and the quieting spirit He puts into our souls.

Over the years, I’ve learned to treasure the silence here. During the day, I write in my journal or on yellow legal paper. This time I have my computer, (Sister doesn’t check my car any more for contraband!) but resist all news and the rabbit trails they lead to. The weather is erratic and since I forgot my cleated walking shoes, I haven’t braved the ice or slush. I am learning not to always be on the move. It is really ok with God for me to stay put.

Silence isn’t merely the absence of outside sounds. I can still hear the soft background hum of heating systems, fans and building noises. A loose board in the hallway squeaks when someone steps on it. My neighbor sneezes, the microwave dings and toilets flush every now and then. Cars come and go. The deepest silence is at night when the sky is like ink. I walk back from chapel or the refectory huddled against the wind and look up at a sliver of a moon and one bright star hanging near it. I hear nothing at all except my breath exhaling. I am in solitude and yet, I am not alone. God is very near and God is very, very good.

Silence and solitude are two sides of the same coin. As Christians we’re told to go to our secret place and to pray in secret for God hears us there. But we also need actively seek for wells of solitude, to get far from the maddening crowd, and to treasure the silence our spirits are longing.