A Blaze of Silence

Ripe from Image of the Maker, the words flowed fresh and cool and the images framed themselves and I was ready and there to catch every drop, every spill of light, and serve them up here.

But then as quickly as the inspiration came, it fled. In its place a quiet descended, a quilted cloak of boys’ busyness from early until late, baskets and baskets of laundry and meals to plan, cook, eat, clean up from, repeat. This summer’s trademark pursuit of trying new recipes for homemade ice cream, playing word games, and origami. Darker patches of extended family worries, a sad but honorable journey we’re anticipating, and the days speeding relentlessly it seems to me toward the start of school and an end to lazy mornings and long read aloud afternoons.

I’ve been trying to hold up that frame, to see the art. But there’s been a creeping sadness to it and the words would not come.

I’ve learned to ride out such seasons, that the eye and the fingertips on clicking keys will come back. So lately I’ve been letting my other senses take over, for art tasted and felt and heard and not necessarily made by me. A kind of rest.

“What was incurable, desperate blindness 
has been bound up from all sides with lovingkindness 
comfort for sorrow, 
rivers for dryness 
come and drink you who have no money

And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine.”

In these quiet weeks, art still happened. My making has been more like supper and less like poetry, and the art has yet come spilling, from a sister’s voice on the phone, from the speakers, from the children with their nimble fingers and colored paper, from the front of an over-warm sanctuary and the side of a blueberry hill. There’s a good humility that comes clearer when my hands are cupped rather than creating, that it is all gift, that we are just bearing witness, to His Image on us, in other voices, other faces, other hands.

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8 thoughts on “A Blaze of Silence

  1. ruthidejong

    oh Missy ~ I kept waiting for your next post and what a beautiful post it is, ringing so true in my heart. Thank you for reminding me of what art really is. Hugs!

    Reply
  2. Donna Johnson

    Such beautiful word pictures. Makes me miss the summers when my kids were little, but new seasons of life bring new memories all their own. Thanks for the post.

    Reply
  3. tonia

    and art in the lovely, precious letter that flew across the miles to my home. I wanted to sit down and email you back immediately…like a conversation. If only life hadn’t intervened. 🙂 But anyway… you bless and you are a good listener and a wise friend. Your life is art, my friend.

    love to you.

    t

    Reply
  4. Trish

    Missy, I was going to say the very things Ruthi did! I too look forward to reading what you write. Your writing is so full of deep, deep truth and beauty. And thank you for reminding me that art is simply bearing witness to what the great Artist has given us. Enjoy every minute with those precious boys!

    Reply
  5. Aimee

    hands cupped….yes, being a “receiver” is humbling and good and then we can pour all that comes out to others!

    Put the books you mentioned on hold at the library 🙂 Love!!

    Reply
  6. Kristin Blankenship

    Recognizing and acknowledging when it is time to receive and when it is time to give is an art within itself, isn’t it? I so appreciate how you “framed” this in your post, Missy!

    Reply
  7. Beth

    Missy,
    I’ve missed you here, but am glad that you’ve been riding out the quiet season by drinking in the gifts given by others. Being filled and simply seeing and living.

    Much love to you…

    Reply
  8. keishavalentina

    Oh, this is absolutely.beautiful.
    Still making art even in the silence my dear…
    But I get it, I really do.
    Praying for your quiet moments and thankful to have met you.

    Love, Keisha

    Reply

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