Didn't care.
Not my personality.
Sounds like a monk thing. And I'm not one.
I'm loud. I speak my mind. And solitude, in my (loud) mind meant being alone. Which means no peeps. And I love me some people.
So, back to the monks. And solitude. I picture them all solitude-ish, with their drapey, not very flattering graduation-style gowns, chanting in monotone. Or worse. Not chanting. Just shushing. Chanting or not chanting in their drapes is the opposite of me. In my hot pink yoga pants. Talking, laughing and dancing. I can guarantee there are no monks sporting Lululemon Wunder Unders. Show me a monk in Lulu and I might reconsider my opinion of them, but until then, I have no doubt that I would be shushed to shameful depths if I walked in a monestary all, "Hey guys! Can ya speak up a little? What's with all the chanting? Wanna try some harmonizing?"
So... silence and solitude. NOT MY THING.
But God has this way of making His thing your thing, even when you don't want His thing to be your thing.
It's kind of annoying.
Long story short God bonked me over the head with some identity issues I didn't even know I had issues with. Apparently, instead of my whole identity being about HIM, it was about what I did good, who thought I did good, and then constantly striving for that.
I didn't even realize that was the case. Ambition was my drug of choice and success was my high. And I am not talking like making millions of dollars success. Gosh, then we probably woudn't be having this conversation. I'd still be making millions.
So after months of fighting with God about my identity issues. I finally caved in and said, "Fine! Have it your way."
So, I am prideful and love accolades. What's the biggie? I am still doing great things for you. I have my Bible time, I talk the talk, and walk the walk. Or do I?
GOD: Here's the deal. We need to make your identity in me. I want you WHOLE and COMPLETE and COMPLETELY SATISFIED in me. Even if you were doing nothing. So I need you to have some silence and solitude so we can figure that out. Which means you're gonna do nothing but sit with me.
Me: What the What? (in my best Liz Lemon voice.) Like the monks' silence and solitude?
GOD: I need you to give up some stuff that is filling the void that I AM supposed to fill.
Me: Great chit chat but, no thanks....
So after a couple of months of this conversation. I finally cried UNCLE.
I'm not gonna like it! I'm gonna kick and scream like my two-year-old when I grab my lipsticks (yes plural, a girl's got to have some options) out of her hands. (Mind you the same hands that for the fifth time today has marked all over her body. She looks like a stripper with her bright red lipstick, yet I refuse to put it someplace she can't reach it.)
I digress.
So, after kicking and screaming, I gave up some things so I could sit in SILENCE... ALONE... with Him. And you're wondering, "How did she get any silence with the crazy one-and-a-half year-old stripper-lipstick-toddler. Naps, peeps! She is a good napper, thank the good Lord. She might take all of her clothes off and pee in her bed. But it's usually long enough for my version of monkish silence and solitude. At least plenty long enough for me.
When I really practiced listening to God with NO agenda and taking time to be alone, even if it meant jumping in the closet to get away from the madness, I got to read and soak in little treasures like this:
"It is in this solitude that we discover that being is more important than having and that we are worth more than the result of our efforts." (Show Me the Way, Henri Nouwen) Well shoot, Henri, that's gonna take some time to soak in.
"It is in solitude that this inner freedom can grow...a life without a lonely place, that is, a life without a quiet center, easily becomes destructive." ( Hey Henri how do I have a quiet center when I am being pulled all these differenet directions and my kids are screaming, "MOM MOM MOM MOMMY?")
And I think Henri would say in his soft, quiet, whipser-y voice: "Practice, be present, sit, no agenda, just BE..make time for it."
I had to really PRACTICE silence and PRACTICE solitude. Practice like you would practice kipping pull-ups.
One of the books that journeyed me through this time and will forever be one of my favorite books is Invitation to Solitude and Silcence, by Ruth Haley Barton. She was like that coach that told me what to do and then held me accountable to do it. Every word she wrote seemed to pierce my soul.
Get it, read it, underline it, and then read it again.
Because I listened and obeyed, and sat alone in silence with no DOING and just BEING.
He was able to refill me.
My prayer through this journey is, "Be my everything, Be my All.
And through that refining and refilling process I was able to get my identity back. My identity in Him. Was it an enjoyable process? NO. (realizing you aren't who you thought you were, not so much fun)
Was it a struggle? Yes, yes, and yes!
Was it beautiful and painful at the same? Yes, and Yes.
And would I do it all over again? A million times YES!
I discovered I want WHOLENESS. And not fake wholeness. Not success, not accolades. I want to be complete, whole, wanting nothing. Coveting no one. But just deciding to be the best version God made me.
And I realized Monks have it going on. After reading Brother Lawrence's book, Practicing the Presence of God. I wanted to be his best friend. Monks know their silence and solitude. They know why they do it. To come closer to their loving Father. I could be one of them. In my yoga pants. I can wear black ones.
Rethink your silence and solitude. Have some time alone with Him. Soak up the fact that God wants to make you WHOLE. Every little broken and out of place piece of you. Every prideful, ambitious part of me. God says, "Sit with me alone, soak me up, I'll make ya whole. I Promise."