29 miners were trapped in a mine 2 weeks ago after a huge explosion. I found myself glued to the TV every time there was an update and news conference. As I watched I cried most days and vacillated between hope and despair with the nation as we waited with the families to see if we can get them out. After another explosion 5 or 6 days into them being trapped it was declared that there was no hope left. UGH! What a horrible reality. Though, most of the nation deep in their hearts knew that this might be the case as the days wore on it was still so final to hear. The CEO of the company was unbelievablly engaging to watch. His composure, love, compassion, and professionalism made it impossible for me to take my eyes off the TV as he spoke. This Thursday was the Memorial service and the Prime Minister asked us all to observe 2 minutes of silence as a nation at the beginning of the service. For the most part the entire nation stopped for two minutes, people in shopping malls stopped, work ceased, schools paused...it was just silence for respect for the 29 men and their families.
Being home with Maximillian this first month is of course FULL OF MEMORIES, but this one struck me different. Grief is such an intriguing process for me to watch and experience. I sat so many days feeding Max as I watched this grief unfold for the nation. Maybe the strong connection was because it helped me feel more a part of New Zealand. I found myself saying, "We had a tragedy" versus NZ had a tragedy. The silence with Max has been so good for me to experience. I have loved slowing down and just enjoying this season of life. This experience helped me connect more with not just Kiwi's but with humanity in general. I found myself in conversations with people that God had seemingly orchestrated. I felt honored and humbled this week as I sat talking to people that shared parts of their heart. Life came full circle for me this week a little bit. I sat this week sharing my heart and my past experiences in life and with God. As I was talking to a very sweet young girl one afternoon, I was feeding Max and listening to her heart and fears about depression and grief and I was able to share my experiences. I prayed that God would use me to bring hope and to be a listener. While sitting there I was overwhelmed with what God has done in my life. Not only am I ministering to a young girl with my own journey of fear of pain, but I was holding my baby boy. I can remember so many nights crying and thinking (as warped as this is it's true) I will never have a family but always "just" minister to others. SERIOUSLY?! I know it sounds warped but that is the honest truth, the thing I LOVED, ministering to others, seemed to be the thing I thought would be the only good thing God would ever give me. WHAT A JOURNEY THIS LAST 3 YEARS HAS BEEN!!!
In 2008 when I first stepped foot in NZ I watched God take my heart and teach me about His goodness on a whole new level. He took some of my warped theology and taught me about Him and His love. This last two years being married and now having Max has been a journey that I would never trade. God taught me about His love in tangible ways through Sam and having Max, but more poignantly He taught me about His love in silent moments. Sometimes those moments were filled with conflict and grief and pain, sometimes they were simple with no one around and no glamour. This last year we haven't found a church we connect in and while I have listened to podcast and have spiritual community I wondered if I would really grow outside of church walls. Yet I have learned more about God, ministry, His heart, people, His vision for the world and even theology...more so than any other season of my life. While I don't advocate not going to church AT ALL, and look forward to some new opportunities we have in the new year, I do see that God has used this season out of "Sunday morning church" and working in a church to do some much needed repairing of my theology, mind and heart.
Silence is where most of this took place. Silence is where I struggled and fought and lived for awhile. Silence is where I saw joy, intimacy and hope in such vivid ways. Silence has meant so many different things to me over the years, but in Max's first month the word silence holds a very special meaning.
Here is tangible silence
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