I’m one of those strange people who takes notes during Mass.
I long ago realized that certain thoughts and words jump out at me during every liturgy, and I don’t want to forget what they are. Sometimes they come from prayers I hear every day, other times they are from homilies.
One of today’s thoughts was, “One can only understand the breath of God in silence.”
As I reflected on that, it brought to mind a recent incident while caring for my grandsons. I explained to the two-and-a- half-year-old that I was going to watch church (his understanding of Mass) on the computer while he was playing next to me. He nodded and went on playing, until the cantor started to sing.
Every time the young man began a hymn or sang a response, my grandson would stop playing and turn the computer screen so he could see who was singing. Then he went back to his creative work.
When the cantor began the Gloria, I started humming along. My grandson looked up from the art he was creating with glass hearts on the sofa and said with a shy smile, “Be quiet.”
I suppressed a laugh, accepted his gentle chastisement with good humor, and stopped humming.
Obviously satisfied, he handed me a few pink and red glass hearts and went back to work.
Kids are great teachers, if we take the time to listen to them. They’re like little God-taps on the shoulder, trying to get our attention for our own good and for theirs.
Adults are not the only ones who benefit from quiet times with God. While we understand that a variety of food is necessary to provide a healthy diet for our children, it seems we still have to learn that, in addition to the noisy hustle and bustle our children encounter every day, we need to include times of quiet and silence in the mix for the health of their spirits.
It helps to embrace silence, not as a void where nothing exists, but as a well from which everything is possible; where self-discipline, creativity, and prayer are nurtured.
In the evening of the same day my grandson asked me to be quiet, we went to his room to get ready for bed. Standing near the window, he turned around to me and said, “Listen!” We both became silent for a few seconds until a melodic trill could be heard coming through the screen. His eyes widened and he smiled, like he knew a secret.
“What is that?!” I asked.
“Those are frogs,” he shared. “They hide in bushes.”
“I love frogs!” I told him. Again he smiled, “We go find them.”
I had to explain that it was night and we would have a hard time finding them in the dark, so instead we told stories about what the frogs might be doing out there, perhaps talking to their frog friends and planning to go hunting for food, or swimming.
“Who made frogs?” I asked at the end of our story. “God,” he replied quickly, looking at me like it was a silly question.
I’m grateful for the moments of silence we’ve been able to build into a day. They can lead to story time and God-talk, both very important ingredients in the recipe for a good day.
Mary Regina Morrell is a Catholic journalist, author, and syndicated columnist who has served the dioceses of Metuchen and Trenton, New Jersey, and RENEW International in the areas of catechesis and communication.