Holy Silence (Lisa and Claire)

The silence of prayer used to scare me until my daughter helped me find the gift in her silence and the holiness in my own.

I pray. Alot. Though I pray the rosary and the Our Father, mostly I prefer an ongoing conversational prayer with my Lord but whatever prayer form I take, I admit, I expect words to be coming from my mouth more often than I have listened for His. This is the extent of what I thought all prayer was but this thinking left me vulnerable. There have been times, tragic moments in my life, when I would freeze, and nothing would come out, when I was void of any word or sound. In the past, when I experienced what felt like tragic silence, I would feel frightened, judging my faith in a poor light.

Why can’t I pray? What’s wrong with me? What was all that faith practice for, if in my hour of need I cannot grab onto any of it? I could beat myself up pretty good but I learned that sometimes no memorized prayer or fresh word from my mouth would do.

In 2015 I learned something new from my silent daughter Claire. We had almost lost her twice that week and as she held on by a thread, we all did our best to cope. In her hour of need, all that came out of my head and mouth was, nothing. But, this time, instead of feeling inadequate or in despair, I felt an overwhelming sense of calm and peace, as if the Holy Spirit was filling up all my emptiness. It felt like a soft, warm hug from the inside out, a knowing hug that told me Jesus already knew everything I could not form my words around.

My void became a vessel and my silence made room for all the mercy and grace I needed from my God. This is what helped me calmly stand beside my Claire as her oxygen levels dropped despite all that the medical staff did to support her breathing. Jesus filled me with a calm and a readiness. I realize now all those past silent tragic moments, when my dad died, my brother passed, my own illnesses, and Claire’s sufferings and close calls, all of those tragic silent moments held Jesus’ calming peace as well, even as I fought that sense of peace off with my doubts and fears, my painful judgements of myself and my faith.

There are times when nothing else will do.

Silence. It captures the perfect prayer with our God, our Jesus Christ, our Holy Spirit. We become One in silent holy prayer. The meditative prayer referred to as centering prayer or contemplative meditation is an intentional emptying of thoughts, words and images and an opening up to God’s words and thoughts. It is an attempt to intentionally become that empty vessel. Practicing centering prayer helped me to see the silence that came to me in that tragic moment, as something holy, not frightening or faith-failing on my part. It naturally happened and it felt completely HOLY because it was. HOLY.

Claire’s sheer will and Gods’ plan for her proved greater than all our imaginings on that day. She lived on for years, giving of herself until her very last breath. We were honored and blessed to walk beside her and help her do so. To think that this child, who grew to be a woman, started her life as such a medically fragile child, a ward of the state, a person so vulnerable and in such need, to think that this child, who never said a word would give so much to this world, brings me to tears. In her own struggles she blesses all of us still with an ever deepening and abiding faith.

Thank you, Claire for helping me find the gift in your silence and the holiness in my own. As much as I will look for you all my life in joyful moments because you have been nothing but joy to me, I will also hear YOU in the sweet HOLY sound of SILENCE.