January 29, 2014
Long, long ago, in a land far away (or so it seems now), Josh and I were dating.
We were eating at our favorite restaurant—the one with tiny tables, checkered tablecloths, low lights and a fellow in the corner strumming his guitar.
We were making the usual googly-eyes at each other when I noticed a couple a few tables away. They were older, probably in their sixties, and all the time I watched, they did not speak to each other.
They were completely silent. Not a word.
I remember commenting to Josh, “Isn’t that sad? To go on a date and have nothing to talk about?”
That will never be us, I thought.
That was us. About four weeks ago.
There was nothing wrong.
There hadn’t been one of those ill-timed mid-date arguments to spoil the mood (not that that ever happens, right?) The restaurant was nice. The food good (besides being just a tad too expensive for Ms. Frugal here.)
We just didn’t have anything to say to each other.
So… it was quiet.
I have heard from many of you this week in regard to my last post.
So many out there are like me—waiting on God to answer at this very moment. Others have come through that waiting to the other side and can remember the feeling so clearly.
People on both sides of the spectrum have said that the quiet times with God—the waiting times—are what make our faith deeper and richer, our relationship with God more intimate.
But it is not easy, you have said. It never will be.
The waiting is quiet.
And quiet is hard.
This past Saturday brought a date altogether different from our Silent-Fest a few weeks ago.
It came on the heels of an altogether different kind of week, thank goodness, since we all know how last week went.
(No, the e-mail did not come. But thank you for wondering.)
The date itself wasn’t anything special. We did practical things that you do on dates when you’re married—shopped for jeans and bought embroidery floss—but then we talked over dinner like we hadn’t talked in ages.
There was excitement and googly-eyes. Food I hadn’t prepared myself. Instead of beating the crowd so we could get the kids in bed, we actually ate at a time when the restaurant was busy.
It was refreshing and fun.
It was not quiet.
So, dear, sweet Immature Dating Hannah, the truth is, the quiet times with your spouse are going to happen occasionally, and (get this!) it’s nothing to be sad about.
Quiet Josh at dinner doesn’t change who Josh is. I know him well enough to know that he will be his loud self again soon. (If you know my husband, I’m pretty sure you can agree.)
Despite the temporary silence, I do not lose faith that Josh still loves me or start to question whether or not he is a guy worth committing my life to.
A couple that can dwell in silence comfortably is a couple that knows who they are and why they are together. They do not need constant excitement or entertainment to keep them close. Commitment to each other has been established and its finality agreed upon.
We are not going anywhere, it says. No matter what.
Quiet dates mean depth.
Complete trust has been reached.
Nothing has changed about God since I signed on with Him either.
He is still good.
Whether or not He answers my prayers within the timeframe I want Him too has little to do with my plans and everything to do with His. And His plans are still good. Still kind. Still resonating with His love.
So as I wait on God I can thrash and pout. I can doubt His commitment to me and His plans for my life. I can question His love.
I can wait in comfortable quiet with a God I desperately love and who loves me back.
Because quiet times mean depth.
Complete trust has been reached.
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