Present Over Perfect

the notes—that’s the groove.
In this season, I’m finding so much beauty in the space
between the notes. This is new for me. This is life-changing.
For the first time, I’m able to stay in the space, right inside
the silence, held there, mesmerized, content, empty.
If you believe people can’t change, I’m here to tell you
we can. If you think you could never turn down the volume
or lay down your armor or climb into the silence, I’m here
to tell you that if I can, you can. If I can, anyone can. I’m a
hardened case, a tough nut to crack, a lifelong connoisseur
of noise and motion and excessiveness of any kind. If I can
climb into silence and simplicity, anyone on earth can join
me there, I promise.
Sometimes I read books about the contemplative life.
But it seems to me they’re always written by, you know,
contemplative people, people who love to be alone, whose
lives have always been calibrated by silence and simplicity.
I’m not sure that helps me.
So here I am: a girl who loves the days that scream along
from start to finish, that start with loads of espresso and
switch quickly to wine with lunch, and I’m telling you that
the silence is becoming my new home, that the tenderness
of life unarmed is welcoming me into the sweetest season of
life I’ve yet known.
I did not see this coming, honestly.
But I suppose I should have, because God in his
goodness has been doing this thing in my life for a long
time—surprising me, drawing me along to places I could