On God and Silence

I think it is a common thing for people who have followed God for a very long time to experience periods of silence.
For me it came during the most painful year of my life.
I felt abandoned.
Forgotten.

You see, I have had a keen sense of the presence of God since I was a little girl.
A daily "being with."
Sometimes on high and sometimes on low, but it was always THERE.
In this year of pain, God stopped speaking with me.
My awareness went blank.
It was like losing a limb or sight or hearing.

That awareness had always been part of my being. All of a sudden, I didn't know how to "be."

When God began speaking again, it wasn't in the same way as before.
In everything previous, God followed all of the paths outlined to me in my religion.
He spoke with me through Scripture.
He spoke with me at church.
Through Christian friends.
When I was praying.

In the year of silence, God "turned off" all of those previous paths.
In desperation and loneliness, I broadened my search.
And God began connecting me in very unexpected ways.
Through ordinary books.
Through people of other faiths.
Through mundane happenings.
Through walking, yoga, nature, touch, the quiet of the morning and even dreams.

When God began speaking again, He got much bigger.
There was no more division between the secular and the sacred.
GOD WAS EVERYWHERE.

In the year of silence, I longed for things to go back to the way they were.
Instead they became different. And MORE.
Before. I thought I could follow the rules and get God to show up.
And as things changed I found that there was nothing I could control.

I no longer see God as I AM THIS or I AM THAT.
Instead I've experienced I AM to a greater degree than ever before.
So big and so wide that He can't be contained by our patterns.
He can be anywhere and EVERYWHERE and is.

I still can't celebrate that year of silence. I remember the pain too keenly.
But do enjoy and feel a special wonder at the way things are now.
This place of the veil being ripped.
Of the awe of seeing more.
And the humility because I'm aware that I still don't see it all now.
© Random Cathy
Maira Gall