In Praise of Quiet

The holidays can be a challenging time. Dysfunctional families, loneliness, the pressure to deliver the perfect family gathering, travel plans and mishaps. But these times can also bring great joy as people renew connections and embrace the blessings of the season with gratitude and love. The stresses of cooking can often disappear in the hugs of newly arrived family.

I am grateful for the holidays, although not for the reasons most people might think. I am thankful for the quiet.

Some of you may be groaning about now: Quiet? Now!? Finding rest and silence in an ordinary week can be difficult, much less during the holidays. The demands on our time and energy seem endless, pulling us in all directions.

I understand this all too well. I have lived a chaotic and people-filled existence. I’ve moved 20 times and worked for eight major corporations. I once lived with my fiancé’s parents—nine people in a three-bedroom house. I’ve lived in apartments, duplexes, and houses. I had a child with severe disabilities, which meant a daily round-robin of therapists, nurses, and other caregivers. I balanced all that with a series of full-time as well as part-time jobs—sometimes both—that often meant starting over again.

While I was married, we balanced one family of in-laws, who always had a meal large and boisterous enough to match a community theater production, with one whose holidays were low-key and cozy. Families who were 500 miles apart. My employers hosted holiday meals, and one of my daughter’s caregivers always turned Black Friday into a weekend-long party. The activities in my life never ceased.

As an extreme introvert, I often found all of it stressful to the point of breaking—but I spent a great deal of time in prayer . . . and I coped. I usually tell people my life has been one of challenging fun.

But over the past decade, a lot has changed. My parents have both died, and my daughter passed away in 2016. My brother lives 700 miles away. I have been divorced for almost 30 years; my ex died this past spring. In 2017, after the first tsunami of grief for my daughter had eased, I made a drastic change, leaving a home and city I love to start over—again.

New city, new job, new homes. New people. Lots of new people. I made the difficult adjustments, and gracious invitations helped ease the transition.

Then came the pandemic, and the whole world seemed to go silent. Mine certainly did.

As those days of isolation eased, the pull to engage in a lot of activities tugged at me again. I am single, live alone, and have no immediate family living nearby. Those three facts mean that every holiday I am showered with kind and well-intended invitations to join someone else’s holiday gathering. Sometimes a lifelong friend or someone from church encourages me to “come along.” I have cousins who live about an hour away who often suggest I join them. I receive invitations for Christmas trips, community groups, and local celebrations.

I am blessed by each invitation. They remind me that no matter my circumstances, I am never truly alone. Yet I usually turn each one down, often to the puzzlement of folks who cannot believe I would prefer to spend such glorious holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas—holidays oriented around family joys—alone.

But I do.

Really.

I’m serious.

In 2020, I had already begun working many days at home, but during the pandemic, it became a necessity rather than a choice. Unlike some of my peers, isolation seemed to suit me. After so many years of frenetic activity, I found solace in the quiet. My introverted self took comfort in the moments of silence, and I grew to love it.

This does not, of course, mean that I do not enjoy the company of people. It means that I now look forward to the holidays as times of introspection, prayer, study, and—most of all—rest.

Rest is vital for every human. God knew this—He himself rested and created the Sabbath for us to do the same. Psalm 46:10 instructs us to “Be still, and know that I am God,” and the most well-known psalm of all reminds us that when God leads us to stillness, He restores our soul. Paul goes even further, urging us to “live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness” (1 Tim. 2:2 NIV).

I have taken these words to heart and have found that my relationship with God has blossomed in those moments spent with Him alone, reaching up even as I seek to listen closer. It is in those quiet times I hear His voice the most. So I am grateful for the rest, the quiet, and His supportive and encouraging presence.

This is also my prayer for all of you. I know—far too well—how hard it is to find moments to be still, to listen. But as you embrace the joys of the holiday season, loving on those around you, I hope you find time to rest, be thankful . . . and listen. Even if it is in that fraction of a second between the “Amen” of grace and that first bite.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Ramona Richards is a 40-year publishing veteran who has worked for Thomas Nelson, Abingdon Press, and Iron Stream Media. She writes devotions, nonfiction, and fiction, and is the author of 18 books, including My Mother’s Quilts: Devotions of Love, Legacy, Family and Faith. Her latest novel is Circle of Vengeance, part of the Star Cavanaugh Cold Case Series.

Photograph © Maria Lupan, used with permission