As I sit here in the middle of the night, doing private duty
care, the silence is noisy. The man I’m
caring for has a terminal illness and sleep apnea, so it’s hard to determine
when he stops breathing if that’s his last breath. A very noisy silence.
Then there’s the dog.
Not just any dog. A stray that
wandered onto their farm many years ago.
The dog won’t leave his side.
This dog is so old, she makes noises when she moves and noises when she
sleeps. She won’t leave her master. It’s sweet and heartbreaking at the same
time.
They’ve been each other’s companion for so many years, as
the man has deteriorated, the dog wouldn’t eat for the last three days. The dog is grieving. That almost brings me to tears more quickly
than the man who is dying. The faithful
friend. The loyal friend. The grieving friend. The loving friend. The unconditional love is beyond
comprehension.
As the hum of the refrigerator continues, so does the hum of
the lights. Every once in a while, the
furnace kicks in. And, every once in a
while, both dog and man snore in unison.
Then there’s the cat. She has to
be heard as well. It’s a very noisy silence.
My heart is in so many places at one time it seems. Compassion for this man. Compassion for his family. Compassion for the dog. Fresh feelings of having lived this myself
not too many months ago. They are all
overwhelmed. They haven’t walked this
path before.
Our family and friends stood vigil with my mom all twenty-four
hours a day. We were with her, loving on
her, caressing her cheek, her arm, holding her hand, kissing her. We were talking to her, reading her Bible to
her, singing to her, playing the piano for her, and just sitting there with
her, touching her. The outpouring of
love was precious to behold. There are
no words for the loving atmosphere my mom was surrounded by her last days on
earth. I am more grateful for God’s love
to us and in turn, it causes me to love others deeper.
They stood vigil much longer than we did. They were exhausted. There are no friends here now. Just a few family members come and go. They were so grateful to have extra hands to
help them. They were very loving when
they were with him. They were hurting, but
loving and kind. His wife of 67 years
was so precious to watch as she said goodnight to him each night. She was weary. Her heart was broken. My heart ached for her and their
children. Their silence was noisy. Their hearts and faces spoke loudly in
silence.
In Isaiah 26:3, it tells us to “Be still and know that I am
God”. He is speaking about our inner
man. It’s not what’s going on around us
on the outside. We are experts at
blocking out that noise. It’s what’s
going on in the inside, the real pain, the real discouragement, the real lack
of understanding. It’s all real. That noisy place that needs to be silenced to
KNOW that He IS God. That noisy silence that
blocks out that “still, small voice”. God
knows we are flesh and weak. He knows
our spirits are willing to hear from Him.
He calls to us continually to “Be still and know that I am God”. He calls to us to silence our noisy heart, to
let Him handle it all. Surrender the
noise to Him. Take your thoughts captive
and surrender them to Him. Let Him show
you Who He Is in your circumstance. When
my heart is noisy in my silence, I cry, “be still my heart, and KNOW that HE IS
GOD”.
