February 10, 2005
Dear Friends,
Those who know me well are already aware that, in spite of my
energetic and loud (occasionally obnoxiously so) nature, I also
appreciate times to myself to reflect in quiet. After the wonderful
experiences that I had at the Amity Winter Conference and my vacation
to Huzhou to visit friends, I returned to Lanzhou on the twenty-eighth,
in time to experience some of the Spring Festival celebration
in my Chinese hometown. After the frantic, terrific bustle of
the past few weeks, it was time to settle down and reflect.
Some of the best moments of the Spring Festival for me were walking
around downtown Lanzhou, talking with vendors or restaurant workers,
but mostly just observing the scenery quietly. The red lanterns
hung from porches, paper cuttings and red posters with well wishes
for Lunar New Year on doorways and windows, and the constant crackle
of fireworks formed the framework of the joyful atmosphere. People
were walking in larger than normal groups because of the addition
of several family members to celebrate the holiday. It made me
smile to see grandparents interacting with the smaller children,
and I even had to laugh a little when I saw one mischievous teenager
get berated by four adults at once for setting off a firecracker
too close to a bus stop. The best moment was when I was walking
home after a late supper a few nights after the Lunar New Year,
and I passed a gateway with a recessed drive, decorated with string
after string of colored lights and red lanterns. It was a quietly
beautiful moment, seeing all of them waving in the brisk breeze.
The gentle glow in the night felt almost holy.
A few days ago I went swimming with my English dean, whose English
name is Abby, and her son. After three hours in the pool, we headed
to a supermarket to buy food for dinner, and then to Abby’s
home. She and her husband cooked a magnificent meal, and after
several questions about myself and future travel plans, we settled
down to eat in silence. I was grateful for the silence, and not
just because it gave me a chance to rest from trying to communicate
in Chinese or to cram in more of the remarkable food. I appreciated
the silence because it held mutual acceptance. Despite my limited
Chinese and out very different backgrounds, I had made friends,
Chinese friends, who could accept me for who I was.
My prayers these past few days have also been full of silent
pauses. Silence in my prayers has given me a chance to rest in
God’s presence, a chance to “Be still, and know that
I am God” (Psalm 46:10a). I have found peace, acceptance,
and joy in the silence of prayer, as well as walking along the
streets of Lanzhou and in the company of new friends.
Rachel Naomi Remen wrote, “Perhaps the most important thing
we bring to another person is the silence in us. Not the sort
of silence that is filled with unspoken criticism or hard withdrawal.
The sort of silence that is a place of refuge, of rest, of acceptance
of someone as they are. We are all hungry for this other silence.
It is hard to find. In its presence, we can remember something
beyond the moment, a strength on which to build a life. Silence
is a place of great power and healing. Silence is God's lap.”
In my silent hours here in Lanzhou, I have experienced numerous
moments of repentance, growth, and peace. I am grateful for the
new friends that I have made, grateful for the silence in my life
at the moment, grateful for my friends in Amity and with the Chinese
people at my school. My prayer for all of you is that you will
also feel the blessings of the silent presence of God. May you
be a bearer of silent acceptance of someone as they are, and may
you find a friend who offers this silence to you as well. May
God’s peace (and quiet) go with you.
Rachel
The 2006 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 246
|
