There's no two ways about it. I am an introvert. Born and bred.
That's no surprise to those who know me well. Even if they wonder out loud why I don't leave my cellphone on 24/7. Or text relentlessly back and forth. Arrive wherever and head straight for the back row or a unobtrusive seat in the corner. Say 'no thanks' to enthusiastic mingling and small talk with unknown souls. And abhor crowds of unruly people like the bubonic plague.
It's why I put an end to dragging my husband off to those huge, unwieldy counseling conferences. Filled with noise and commotion, we'd spend 12 - 14 hour days packed shoulder to shoulder with thousands of attendees. When all was said and done, the endless sessions and speakers and concerts left me burned out and hung over, instead of inspired and rejuvenated.
I'll take a silent retreat any day of the week.
I play house and write and take care of the business of life. I work hard at keeping in touch with my far flung family and the friends who feed my soul. A leisurely phone call, where I'll refuse to let the computer screen distract me from my focus on what's being spoken. A heart to heart brunch, or curling up in a cushy chair at Panera's for a long-anticipated conversation. And always aiming for a quiet time with God that matters and living a life that's sane and healthy.
All that peace and time and space is what equips me to be fully present with the women who venture into my counseling office two days a week. And allows me to go full steam ahead through hour after hour of the deep, soul-searching, intense conversations that are my life blood. And then I extend the graces of solitude and silence to myself when those sessions are over.
But more than ever, I love my evenings quiet.
As the sun heads down we two usually eat a simple, peace-filled supper together. We might play Scrabble or watch the news or talk about the family. Go for a walk or head to DQ. Maybe read quietly side by side with not a sound to mar the stillness. Or he'll putter in his wood shop and I'll curl up and watch Chopped. And then he'll make me a cup of hot chocolate {mine stacked high with whipped cream, his with one lone marshmallow}.
We savor the quietness of conversation and companionship ... and maybe a foot rub or two. Or no conversation at all. It doesn't matter, either way. Because to be fully present, without a single word, is the greatest gift one soul can offer another. And truth be told, that's the treasure that most of us are craving to receive.
No matter if you're introverted ... or not so much.
Linda
- thanks to Introverted Church and Pleated-Jeans for the illustration -
