On Silence

There was this day last summer--the sky a perfect shade of blue, making all the colors of earthly objects more vivid and lush. Bunnies and birds and bugs teeming with their own purpose. The wind brought just the right amount of comfort to skin. It was in this air that the kids and I went down to the trail. Fisher drove Phoenix in his powerwheel while I was lead by the leash of our dog Neko. Our only purpose was to wander around. There was an older gentleman walking an old dog who was headed towards the same trail as us, but when he saw us he scowled, cursed, and let out a huff, turning around. Minutes later we ran into him again (he had accessed the trail at a different spot with the intent of avoiding us) and he was truly pissed. I guess he expected us to be heading in a different direction but as I said we were just wandering without aim. His eyes snapped at me and he yelled, angry that we were there, saying something about how he couldn't pass us because his dog didn't do well around others. It pissed me off; it seemed absurd that he would bring his dog to a public trail and expect there to be no one else. But instead of snapping back I bit back equally angry words. After some silence I said excuse us sir and led the kids away so that he could continue on his walk without having to come near us. A week went by and I saw him again on the trail but this time he came up to me and said he was sorry, that his dog was the only thing he had left in the world--his best friend--and it was dying, which is why he didn't want it to get riled up as was sure to happen when he met our dog. His eyes were so sad. It hit me then that if I had responded to him with equal bitter curses he would not be so warm and apologetic. It was my silence that brought his contrition. Isn't that the way of the world--if we are faced with negatives and just dish out the same negativity all it does is build and build and provide each side with more fuel and more righteousness. But my return of silence was like a mirror, which made him own his anger and he obviously spent that week feeling doubt and remorse about his actions. And then with clear words and understanding, all was forgiven. It's a powerful thing, silence. I practiced silence yesterday by not posting anything on the blog. I'm sure that silence left some readers doubting and wondering--some thinking the worst. But the truth is I had a late night with a good friend who was visiting from out of town so all morning my brain felt like scrambled eggs and I just wanted to be lazy. And then in the afternoon I received sad news. Later on my daughter slammed her toes in a door, which meant a lot of consoling and a trip to urgent care to confirm if it was broken. I'm all for communication--for making our hearts known, but there is a great benefit to sometimes not saying a word--and that is when faced with anger. As Kenny Rogers so succinctly sings, "you got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em."