Where Quiet Bloggers Go . . .

Someone recently remarked that they had my blog figured out.  She boldly stated, “You blog when you are happy.”  I laughed and wondered how I had left such an impression on one who sits with me in real life and witnesses the beauty, joy, and true happiness I enjoy every day.  As we sipped tea, listened to the girls share their gifts of music, and laughed recounting life’s goodness I tried to explain that I do not go away from the blog to sulk, but rather to think, live, be, and learn.  Sometimes I feel called to share the pages of this life’s journal; sometimes it is enough to simply write in my journal or think or just sit.  Sometimes I am called to be quiet.  Quiet is good.

Sometimes I find my joy

In laughing out loud

Sometimes in quiet. 

Still . . .

I count it all joy.

The following pages of my journal filled from my overflowing pen this morn.  Maybe this will help my friend see that a quiet blog does not mean a disquieted heart.

* * *

3-24-2011

These morning hours of quiet, prayer, study, and writing enrich my life like a frame setting off the canvas upon which God/Christ/Spirit paint me . . . my life . . . my message to the world. 

“Essential,” I write, knowing that a day (such as yesterday) without this quiet beginning lacks something vital,  like bread baked without salt (an oversight I commit when baking under hurried or distracted circumstances).  A day without quiet contemplation resembles a salt-less loaf over-risen becoming full of air, splitting at the edges, losing beauty, tasteless, blowsy and frail . . . in short, unsatisfactory to serve.  It falls to bits when the knife comes, rendering it useless save for breadcrumbs; even then it must be dried out to be of any use.  How sad to see a loaf set aside while still fresh and warm and eager to be enjoyed.  Patiently the crumb dries and waits to be ground into meal that will shore up a heartier fare such as ground beef destined to become a succulent loaf – the centerpiece of supper.  The breadcrumb sees her vital role even if she has been hidden away into a new kind of loaf.  Others may not see her, but she is present and presently used.

Proverbial, prophetic, poetic. 

Scripture (Matt. 5:13) calls for salt to season life, to add flavor, to preserve with integrity.  So what of the unseasoned? Unsavory?  God finds use for the salt-less loaves, does He not?  Surely He has taught the housewife all she knows, had He not?  Ground to meal, salted and seasoned, ready for use in a new way she gives to life.

Some disparage my choice to forgo accolades from lectures given in Ivy-ed Halls in favor of hearth-side service.  Where once I dreamed of audiences vast for my excavated treasures, I changed course and followed God’s call like a desert Amma.  In quiet surrounds I pray, read, write, learn, teach, nurture, give, live, love. 

My life exceeds my dreams. 

My loaf of life is seasoned, leavened, baked, and served 

by His recipe.

And it is good . . . 

 

albeit quiet at times, 

like when I am chewing a big mouthful of Daily Bread.