Sundays are normally pretty busy days for me, and often, they are busy in a very vocal kind of way.

Today, I decided to practice being silent. Practice.  I know better than to expect perfection.

My normal Sunday routine involves morning phone calls, followed by church (with phone calls on the way!), and when there aren’t phone calls on the way, warming up my voice to sing at Mass.  Mass is followed by fellowship in the gathering area of our church…more talking.  Then, on the drive home, there are usually a couple more phone calls.  Sunday afternoons can involve a number of different social occasions, and if there are no social occasions on the calendar, there will no doubt be calls to or from friends. Sunday evenings include a 12-step meeting with a group of teenagers. Although there is more listening than talking at these types of meetings, I always seem to find myself in conversation with people before the meeting starts and after it concludes. On the drive home, there may even be some more phone calls.

But today, although not perfectly silent, was definitely different. I engaged in the same activities (church, social events, and a meeting), but I did practice silence.  I made only one outgoing phone call – that’s a miracle – and by the grace of God, the only talking that happened was the voicemail I left.  I did the vocal exercises prescribed by my speech therapist, which did break the silence, but it’s medically ordered.

I attended Mass, but at a different parish than the one to which I belong.  My rationale was I’d have less temptation to engage in coversation if I’m somewhere that fewer people know me.  It worked!  I avoided conversation, and the silence I practiced took my spiritual attention to a new level.  My coach had told me MANY times, “when you’re talking, you’re not listening,” and I never really gave that statement of the obvious more than a nod. But being silent at church allowed me to hear…really hear.  I heard the voices of the people behind me and beside me.  I heard the voices of the choir and the angelic voice of the soloist.  I heard the voices of the readers in a different way. Sure, I’ve heard all this before. But somehow, in not responding to what I heard, I heard it differently and left church feeling filled up in a new way.

This afternoon, I spent 3 hours in the car with two friends. On the way to the event, I let both know that I would not be joining the conversation in order to preserve my voice. Well, I failed at this attempt at silence proving that avoidance of close social encounters like this post-surgery is advisable.  On the way back from the event, however, I did a little better.  I nodded in answer to questions (I admit I nodded VERY loudly!) and when I wanted to laugh out loud, I found slapping my knee worked. I seemed to smile wider, and I nodded my head much more vigorously than normal. There were many times during the drive that I wanted to interject my thoughts, but restrained myself.  It was very uncomfortable.  But can you believe it, my two friends were able to carry on a conversation without the aid of my comments.  Who knew! This was certainly humbling.

Now, I’m headed to the 12-step meeting.  Again, I plan to limit my talking.  I’m practicing silence.  I’m not going to do it perfectly. Thankfully, I have 14 more days to get good at being quiet before I experience “The Grand Silence.”