Posted By Staci

The electricity went out here last night.

It happened on the tail end of the storms that blew through, right as I logged off the computer and headed to bed. As the lights blinked and then went off and the ceiling fans came to a slow halt, a solid silence descended on the house.

I felt my way around the kitchen and retrieved a couple of flashlights from the drawer. It felt a bit strange; this was normally Mike’s job but he is working out of town this week.

I brushed my teeth in the dark and then, as I climbed into bed, I pushed the button on the flashlight and sent the last remaining circle of dim light into oblivion. I was hoping to be able to just fall asleep. Yet the longer I laid there the more aware of the silence I was.

Finally I slipped out of bed and went to stand on my front porch. As far as I could see - up and down the block - was total darkness. No lights from neighbors’ windows. No streetlight in my front yard. No runners, bicyclists, or kids playing in the nearby yards.

Occasionally I’d catch a soft wave of voices; voices that would ordinarily be lost in the noises of the night. Instead, they wafted softly to me as a few clusters of people gathered randomly along the block, obviously trying to pass the time until the power was restored.

As I stood on my porch and faced the darkness head-on, I felt myself almost welcoming the silence. It is so rare and I found myself breathing in the stillness of the night, ushering it into my bones, closing my eyes and allowing it to slowly cruise its way through my being.

But I was very much aware of one thing.

Even as I stood there and relished the darkness and stillness of the night, I knew it was at the expense of all that stood behind me in my house. No lights. No air. No method of cooking. No computer. No ten o’clock news. No radio.

I finally walked back inside, locked the door behind me and went to bed. Much later, I heard the power click back on. The fan above me began a slow whir, I heard the air conditioner outside my window rumble back to life, and - from underneath my closed bedroom door - I saw the lamps from the living room flicker on. I sleepily acknowledged it all and then rolled over and snuggled back down for more sleep.

This was all still on my mind as I awoke this morning though. I couldn’t escape comparing the silence of last night to the silence and stillness that I so often crave inside the deepest recesses of my soul. Inside those places that no one can see or go or truly even know.

It seems as though I’ve spent so much of this summer merely willing it to go by. The “noise” - of parenting, of being a good wife, of leading a women’s group, of trying to be all for everyone - sometimes becomes deafening. There are moments when I crave solitude, quietness, and a stillness of mind, heart, and spirit.

And sometimes I get my wish.

Sometimes - for a while - the noise becomes a dull silence and I find my center. I gain calmness and I become acutely aware of my surroundings. I feel my way around in the dark, knowing instinctively where everything is. For that brief respite of time, I treasure this break.

But I’m always aware of one thing.

Even as I stand on the front porch of my mind and survey the dimness around me, drinking in the silence and tasting the ecstasy of solitude, I’m very much aware that this time comes at the expense of all that stands behind me.

Lives aren’t affected without movement. Kids aren’t nurtured from a distance. Friendships aren’t tended in silence. Progress can’t be made in darkness.

Life - to be lived fully and productively - must be consumed with light, with energy, with movement.

I’ll always treasure brief interludes of the quiet. That is truly how my soul recharges.

But I pray that I’ll always awaken from these occasional nights of silence with a deeper appreciation for the Power that sustains me. It sustains me in the middle of my craziest days and in the stillness of my darkest nights.

In the absence of power comes the opportunity to reevaluate, reassess, readjust…

So that I can be all that I am supposed to be in the presence of His power.