30 Seconds of Silence

“How are you doing today?” I ask, squatting on the ground next to her chair. 

I wait for the response. 

Ten seconds, twenty, thirty. 

A thirty second processing delay may not seem like very long, but as an unanswered question hangs somewhere between my cheerful smile and her furrowed brow it feels like a small eternity. I imagine my follow up questions and comments grinding to a screeching stop, piling up like cars in a cartoon collision.

I feel my legs tensing up and I force myself to hold eye contact. I have almost forgotten what the question was when her answer comes, soft but confident, 

“Good.” 

Working with kids who have disabilities has taught me a lot about myself. I've had my patience tried and my compassion pushed almost to its limits. And I've realize something about myself– I am not comfortable with unanswered questions. I’m not content until I get a satisfactory response and can move to the next one. Whether I want control or just closure, I want to barrel through these moments. I fight the urge to fill the silence with nonsense. 

I wonder how much I miss because I am too quick to speak, too quick to act, too quick to judge. I wonder how many times I have failed to really see what, or who, is in front of me because I was overly eager to get my own words into the conversation. 

And I wonder how often I have missed God’s voice in my life because I was all too ready to supply responses for Him instead of leaving room for His soft but confident answer. 

For what feels like the thousandth time in the past few years I have been reminded that I need to leave more space in my life to just exist. To just listen. To be in the moment, even when the moment is made up of awkward silence and uncertainty. 

So I'm learning to be more patient. I'm learning not to seek constant entertainment. I'm learning not to drown out life with activities. And I'm learning to be comfortable with silence- 30 seconds at a time.