No one would choose this.
Enforced seclusion
for the past month (with recurring
C. Diff, a vile intestinal bug)
resembles—viewed hopefully—
a dubious Gift: unwanted,
yet potent as incubation.
And not only pathogenically.
C. Diff is highly contagious. For now, I can’t leave home.
Like embryonic birds trapped inside eggs 24-7, I face confinement.
Waiting in the dark for something to change, the psyche squirms. And, like those chicks, slowly, surely, the soul stretches. And develops.
Emotionally and spiritually, some days there’s not a heck-of-a-lot of light.
How cautiously, then—choice-by-choice—the soul met by grace befriends isolation. Limitation. The ambient darkness.
Good thing I’m not alone.
A process built right into creation
In a landmark 2016 study, ecologists in Australia staked out the nests of superb fairywrens and red-backed fairywrens. Concerned about their predation rates, researchers concealed a microphone beneath each nest. They hoped to record 24-7 avian alarm calls, warning each other of predators.
Later, they replayed the recordings. Parents engaged in lively duets called to their eggs.
And the nestlings, unhatched, called back—from inside their shells!
Learning to sing in the dark
Almost a century before the Australian study, Oswald Chambers wrote about songbirds being taught, over time, to sing in the dark.
Are you in the dark just now in your circumstances, Chambers asked, or in your life with God?
[W]e are put into the shadow of God’s hand, he adds, until we learn to hear Him.
Chops, Riffs & Licks
Songbirds, like humans (and bats), learn to make sounds by imitation. Further Aussie recordings replay fairywren hatchlings mimicking the song of their father.
Tirelessly, the father repeats his signature song. He drills his chicks on introductory notes—even slows them down.
He spaces out phrases, clarifies syllables. Mastery requires a lifetime of practice.
For everything, there is a season: a time to listen. A time to sing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCFwRh4tEkw
What time is it in your life?
As for me. I’m learning a lot. I’m calling my voluntary seclusion Laurie’s Backward Sabbatical. I read, work puzzles, color, and enjoy books-on-tape. I’m perfecting Klein’s Killer chicken broth.
I spend more time than usual in silence, listening for God. Sometimes improvised songs arise (It’s been years since this happened!).
Currently on a two-month tapering regimen of a Big Bucks Medication, I am (mostly) grateful for this cloistered season, and completely thankful for your prayers.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE: Learn to Sing out on a Limb
Learn more here. And here.
Many thanks to Susan Cowger for pointing me toward Oswald Chambers’ thoughts.
Laurie…you are such a dear girl. And with such a gift to encourage others with words. Whether you are speaking or writing your message comes clear. With kindness and gently powerful. I have saved this message in my inbox for weeks and keep coming back to it. As a reminder to ask Jesus to help you. And to be helped myself from what you write. Sending love your way.
Gail, first of all, I just have to say that being called a “girl” today lights me up from head to toe. 😉 I could rival our Christmas tree which, crazy as it seems, is still standing beside my favorite chair. I find the gentle lights are good company by day’s end. We’ve decided to take it down once I’m well again. We met set a record!
Thanks for letting me know how the words come across. And for your prayers for me. And know you have mine as well. Blessings on you, dear Gail!
Beautiful Laurie, you create a cocoon of rest for us all with your insight and gift of words. Even there, in that hard and isolated place, you bring the light of hope and truth to those of us “outside the shell”. Again, dear heart, THANK YOU.
Oh, I do like that word “cocoon.” Knowing hope and truth is coming through these posts is an answer to prayer, thank you for telling me, friend. It’s wonderful to read your words today. Giving thanks for you and the years of friendship we share.
Creator’s difflation,
Cornerstone’s diffraction,
Christ’s difference.
Carol, I love the musicality of these three lines you’ve shared. The second and third thought speak volumes. I’m less sure of the first line, and I don’t want to miss out on a single syllable.
Google defines difflation this way: “Chemistry. The process in which vapour produced by heating a solid is driven off by a current of air. Now historical and rare.”
Alas, I took only the minimum of science courses in school. Could you help me apply this? Thanks!
I’m smiling, because I saw that definition, too. But, my Free Dictionary (which references Webster’s Revised Unabridged) defines it: a blowing apart or away. So, it made me think of when Adam & Eve were sent out of Eden & it’s when sickness entered into our lives.
I hope your Great Physician is healing you quickly & completely of this C. Diff yuckiness.
Carol, thank you for explaining. 🙂 I love learning new words, and difflation (now that I understand it) startles me into full attention. You’ve distilled the great story to its essence, expressed it with haiku-like proportions. I hope you write about this! And if you do, please send me a link?
Hmmm, my writing life is reduced to a minimum (circumstantial reasons mixed in with some lack of discipline.) I do get inspired by moments stolen here & there–e.g. from your post. I simply felt led to send you some encouragement at the time.
I wouldn’t have given my comments a 2nd thought in re’ to writing, but your reply caused me to take another look. I have been pondering, gathering ideas for how to write about the saving gospel of Jesus in a creative way that fits the style of the book I am working on. Maybe this will become part of the inspiration hor that endeavor. Thank you.
Wonder why the comments are formatting vertically? My phone?
Carol, all is properly horizontal on this end. 🙂
Carol, I get excited when I hear a writer say things like this. I’m sending up prayers as you ponder the way forward in your creative endeavor!
What a gift for the bird to be able to recognize their parents’ voice. I’m still trying to learn what my Father’s voice sounds like. Heat it above the other voices.And the only way I know to do that is be still and listen. Yet that’s not what I choose to do more often than not.
I wouldn’t wish what you’ve been going through on anyone, Laurie. And I am also glad for the gift of God’s voice singing into your heart.
Yes, isn’t it a marvel? So like the Creator to dole out baffling largesse in surprising places. I’m also enrolled in Listening 101. And oh-so-prone to distraction. Therefore, unendingly grateful for every nudge that gently returns my attention to God.
So, as Disney’s Ursula said to Ariel: “Keep singing!”
Hi Laurie!
I miss seeing you so very much! I’ve been praying for your recovery! May God speed it up so you can come back to being with us all soon. But may God also use this time of sabbatical to speak to your heart and produce fruit. That image of learning to song from within the egg is going to stick with me for a long time. In a way we are all in the dark. We are all “seeing through a glass darkly” on this side of heaven, and each note we learn here is a note learned in darkness that produces just a little reflection of God’s light. Keep singing! You’re an inspiration of light to us all.
Deanna! Hi, friend. I miss you too. How wonderful to connect today.
Thank you for your prayers and wise observations. The verse you mention is so apt. I hadn’t thought of it in this context. But so true. I’ll look forward to singing around the circle (or piano) sometime this spring, hopefully next month!
Whew! This was beautiful and touching, Laurie. Perfect timing…always with the Lord, as we wait in longing for today’s next adventure. Thank you for this wonderful start to my day 😊😘💜
Hello my dear, thank you for stopping by to read and respond. Your words make MY day! xo
Love you Laurie! Stay strong, this too shall pass. Fill your belly with the life giving probiotics and your heart with the life giving love and support of your friends♡ You are a blessing!
Love you too, Sarah. And I so appreciate your recent advice. I’m starting to really like kefir smoothies! And the love of friends is healing, too. Thanks for being one of them.
I’m sorry to hear that you’re going through this, Laurie, and pray for this time of seclusion and healing. Yet once again you manage to find the beauty and offer it up and out with words of wisdom. Thank you.
April, thank you for your kindness this evening in reading and leaving a comment. I feel wrapped in compassion.
I’m glad you found glimmers of beauty here. Some days, I have to really hunt for them! Yet it’s always worth the effort to spot, then wade into, the smaller tributaries of gratitude, quietly winding among each day’s obstacles and seemingly barren ground.
Your insight is incredible, Laurie. Every time I read one of your posts my admiration of you grows and I learn how to do life just a little bit better. Thanks for sharing with us.
Karl, thank you for being a reader! I think most writers must yearn to hear their words really are coalescing into insights that are both invitational and practical. Given the slipperiness of language, I can only applaud the grace that makes it possible. You’ve made my day, Karl. Thank you.
Oh wow Laurie, our turn to pray for you! Bless you in this enforced isolation – it hasn’t stopped you writing a lovely precious piece for the rest of us to benefit from!
Dear Robert and Ros, my thanks for your compassion and prayers. I’m glad the post blessed you. As recently as a week ago I couldn’t string two thoughts together, much less 400 words. What a gift, then, last Sunday to be able to write again!
Oh no. Terribly sorry you have been suffering through this illness, Laurie. I’m amazed at your ability and *willingness* to still offer creative insights and a hopeful perspective at such a time.
I would love to hear the songs you mentioned, if they’re something you’d like to share.
How special about the baby birds answering back from within their [dark] eggshells. They’re learning and connecting even before they’re out.
Bethany, thank you. Seems those songs existed in the moment and for the moment, tender and fleeting, a tad exhilarating. Not a tune a person could whistle. I wish I could remember them but perhaps it’s better this way. A clean offering of presence with no expectations or judgments attached.
I was bowled over by the fairywren research, so glad to have stumbled upon it while searching out something else.
Dear Laurie, I’m so sorry for this time you’ve been through. Prayers for complete healing and gratitude for the songs God is bringing forth in the dark and the invitations to courage you call out, much love xx
Jenneth, what potent words, thank you. So grateful for your concern and faith on my behalf.
Oh my friend may more songs arise…such a gift! along with strength and healing.
Jody, thank you for envisioning ongoing music alongside stamina and recovery, a powerful threesome. Makes me sit up straighter as I type!
Love knows no boundaries. Sending love.
Oh, four good words, and like an arrow the verse arrives:
“Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes.”
Thank you!
I am SO sorry you’ve been grounded by such a nasty bacteria, Laurie! Glad that you can find the good even in such uncomfortable circumstances and be mostly grateful for this cloistered season. Thank you for sharing that research about fairywrens. Fascinating, and so applicable to the Christian experience. I happen to be focused on listening to God myself, while starting Priscilla Shirer’s Bible study, Discerning the Voice of God. Therefore, it is a season of listening for me also, but singing too. Steve is recovering well from his liver transplant; his two-month anniversary is tomorrow!
Listening AND singing. I wonder: do they always go hand-in-hand, do you think? Trained vocalists would say yes.
I feel better just reading how quickly and well Steve is recovering. What an answer to prayer!
I enjoyed reading your blog today. I can’t help connecting it with your comment here. Heaven knows what wonders and insights will rise from the ongoing chain of connections we’re each making in our cloistered season . . .
difficile (translated from French): difficult, hard, difficult, fussy, difficult, fastidious, hard, heavy, tough, tricky.
Oh, c. diff, so aptly named! I am sorry for your infirmity, but as always so grateful for the way you share each journey. Prayers for your comfort in this season, and for your healing!!
Hi dear Michelle, and thank you for including the French translation. The definition pretty much covers it. I really appreciate knowing the post came across in a meaningful way. And I thank you so much for your prayers for comfort and healing. Basking in the sensation of connection, warmly present as the late afternoon sun slanting through my window as I type this.
Thank you Lauri, what beauty in your patience.
Goodness, I’m grateful to think some semblance of beauty is coming across, Deb. Thank you so much for telling me. And for dropping by to read the post. May your week unfold in life-giving ways.
Laurie,
You are in my prayers for healing. Thank you for sharing your insights — this is a dark and confined time of year for many of us.
Lou, how good to hear from you today. Thank you for writing. I know what you mean about this time of year. Insights seem harder-won in narrowing times like these. May goodness and mercy follow you, even if just around the house! Thanks again for dropping by and leaving a comment. It helps me feel connected to the real world. 🙂
Your blog answered one question I posed the in the email I sent you last night. But l’ looking forward to your email reply to a couple of the other inquiries.
As for isolation, the weather has forced a bit of that upon me, but nothing of the sort you’re experiencing. I rather like those times. Like you said, “I am (mostly) grateful,”
Love and prayer for your healing, Niki
Niki, thank you for your love and prayers. I’m keenly aware of prayer support buoying my spirits, aiding my forward motion through each day. Love you!