“Let’s play Graveyard!” shouted the day campers. And no, this was not Vampire Camp, it was Bible Camp.
Growing up, day campers like me loved the game Graveyard. We spread out and lay down in any position we chose. Whoever could be silent and the absolute stillest (dare I say corpse-like) the longest was the winner. Counselors walked around and removed from the game anyone not acting like they belonged in a graveyard.
Only when I became a counselor years later did I recognize the genius of this game. Graveyard interrupted the cacophony of camper noise and bought the staff several minutes of complete and utter silence. In fact, I think as a camper we played this game after lunch and I wonder now if when the counselors were “inspecting the graveyard” they were actually napping.
For most moms of littles, silence only comes in the beloved moments of naptime, if it comes at all. In later decades of life, the silence can be unbearable. Perhaps life is lived in seasons of longing for and dreading silence. Last year I spent four days on a silent retreat at Pacem in Terris hermitage in Northern Minnesota, where silence felt like a cold cup of water on a steamy hot day. I left so refreshed after listening to silence day after day. Of course, the silence was not completely without sound. There were rustling leaves, singing birds, tiptoeing deer and raindrops. And silence itself has its own words for you. When you find yourself with silence, it will have so much to say whether you are together four days or four minutes or even four seconds.
Yet we hardly ever find ourselves alone with silence because we cover the mouth of silence with music, podcasts, tv shows, and video games. If we really want to hear what silence has to say, we can brush our teeth with the bathroom door closed and possibly ignore the wiggling fingers at the door. We can keep the radio off in the car, walk without headphones, or make dinner without turning on a device. What might the silence say to you?
We are halfway through Lent, only a few weeks from the day we are awaiting. These weeks of reflection require some silence to be ready for the silence that awaits us in the empty tomb. On Easter Sunday, the silence has everything to say you. It will say, “And you thought death was final.” Or, “Look what God does when all hope is lost.” Or maybe, “Silence is the secret promise that everything will be okay in the end if you can just hold on a bit longer.”
A question for littles
When and where are we expected to be quiet? (at the library, sometimes at church, during the National Anthem, sometimes at school, when we listen to someone else pray) Why are we expected to be quiet then?
A question for former littles
How do you decide what notifications on your phone to turn on or off? Do you ever feel overwhelmed by them? Do the notifications make it difficult to relax?
A spiritual practice
Take a walk and don’t invite your phone. Listen to what is going on around you and what you hear in your own head.
Lisa Lewton 