There's Hope For Todayਨਮੂਨਾ

6:00 A.M. Starbucks. Post-holiday Friday morning. Triple-venti-one-Sweet-n-Low-no-foam latte. Very few customers. No background noise. That’s the best part. The music system is broken and I can hear the clicking of the keys on my laptop.

I usually pick my table with consideration for speaker locations. I’m in luck when they’re playing old jazz. I’m in pain when its reggae. This morning I’m enjoying the sound of the espresso grinders and the hiss of steam. I hope the music system is fried for at least a week. I could really get used to this.

Much of life is cluttered with background noise. Everywhere we go there is something playing in the background. Last week I was trying to buy a pair of jeans. I had to shout my size to the attendant. He shouted and pointed to a general area near the back of the store. We didn’t connect. A symphony was sawing away in the grocery store. The restaurant was playing songs in Italian. The music store had rock and roll.

We have developed an aversion to silence. It’s as if we’re afraid to be alone in ourselves, for even a single moment, without a lyric or riff to fill in the dead space. Give silence a slot in your daily schedule. You might be surprised to hear the whisper of God.