when you say nothing at all

I almost skipped writing my newsletter this week. To be honest, I felt like I didn't have much to say. “No one will notice if I don’t send out an email this week,” I thought to myself. 

And maybe that would’ve been true. But I would’ve noticed, and that’s what matters most. So I decided to stick with it even though every time I sat down to write to you my mind seemed to go frustratingly blank.

What do you say when you have nothing to say? 

I was on a walk with my kids last night, thinking that thought over and over again when the answer hit me with a sudden swiftness that almost made me laugh. This—the fact that I had nothing to say—was exactly what I needed to talk about. As soon as I’d had that realization, I felt a surge of warmth in my chest, and I knew I’d finally figured it out. 

I’ve been off social media for the past few weeks, and it has been wonderful. I took some time off in December to enjoy the holidays with my family, and I just haven’t felt the urge to get back on yet. I know I’ll rejoin the internet society eventually… but not yet. 

I think the feeling that we must always have something to say comes with the territory of social media, especially for creatives who are trying to make things to put out into the world. Everyone wants to stay relevant. We all want to be someone who’s worth following. And while I’m all for proudly sharing our creations in whatever form they take, the truth is sometimes we just have blank spaces where we want to have words. Sometimes we just feel quiet. 

And that’s okay!

Actually, I think it’s more than okay. 

I think that’s where we find creative freedom. 

I think God uses those seasons of quiet to plant something new inside us. He uses the stillness to add fresh soil, to toss in carefully hand-selected seeds. And because He is the Giver of good things, He’s always nurturing the ground we’re planted in, but it’s when we slow down and look up that we finally see what He’s been up to this whole time. We notice the new growth, the tender shoots, the pale pink blossoms just starting to bloom. We feel the changes happening because we’re there to witness it. To take it all in. 

Here’s what God is doing in my quiet season: 

I’m baking bread and trying new recipes for dinner. I’m going on walks and having long talks with friends. I’m reading a shocking amount of nonfiction and soaking up new ideas and old principles that light me up. I’m writing again, little lines here and there every day; I’m letting this first draft unfold slowly and with purpose. I’m spending more playful time with my family. I’m replacing anxious thoughts with scripture. I’m waking up earlier and getting extra sleep. I’m meditating daily and feeling it nourish me one breath at a time. I’m praying and listening, then listening some more.

On the outside, it doesn’t look like much. But on the inside it is everything.

So this week I don’t have anything to say other than this: God is good, and He is giving me life. 

And someday that life will translate into new words. Just not today. 

Stay in the quiet, my friends. Listen to what it has to say. Don’t fear the pauses or wish the blank spaces away. Because something new is stirring.

Something so good.