I Was Thinking . . . Silent Serenity

Recently we had to make a trip to Kentucky for a funeral. While the reason for the trip was sad, the celebration of life with the family was uplifting. My brother-in-law had been ill for some time and his family was able to prepare for the inevitable. While the personal loss is hard to take, the support of family and friends is so rewarding. My sister and her family lived in a rural area of Bowling Green, Kentucky. She and her husband raised their four children in a community where everyone knew their neighbors. Her husband grew up in the area and was the youngest of nine children so there were also a lot of relatives. They also were members of the local community church. When you put those things together, it explains why the small rural church had a full parking lot for the memorial service.  
In many funeral services, the message from a minister is considered the most important part for the family. While the words from the young minister were appropriate and timely, they weren’t central to the events of the day.
Two hours before the service and an hour or more after, there was a constant hum as family, friends, and neighbors shared condolences and stories. Relatives and neighbors who may not always find reasons to gather, were drawn together to honor and remember their lost relative and friend. It was also a time to offer their support and share memories with family members.  
Preparing for a service, going through it, and dealing with the overwhelming throngs of well-wishers can wear on a person. But at the end of the day when everyone has finally left, it gets very quiet. 
My sister and her husband built their house 50 plus years ago on a small acreage, on a quiet country road about six miles out of town. They were surrounded by small farm fields and woods. On most summer nights, the only sounds may be an occasional plane flying high overhead, some neighbor dogs barking, and the sound of crickets. To someone like me who lives in town and is used to the sounds of traffic, trains and neighbors, my sister’s place seemed kind of lonely.
But that is not how she viewed it.
After a hectic day, with family, friends, and neighbors, the quiet serenity of her back patio was what she craved. It is where we sat after the sun went down and the stars began to illuminate a dark sky. There was no radio or TV playing, no highway traffic noises, or train sounds in the distance, there was just quiet. Nobody texted, posted or even opened their phone. For about an hour we just sat, enjoyed each other’s company, and relished in the quiet.
My sister and I both grew up on a farm in rural northeastern Wisconsin. We attended the same one room school and graduated from the same high school. However, neither of us spent the majority of our lives where we were from. She ended up in Kentucky and I in Minnesota. 
Our lives followed quite different paths. My wife and I surely stood out in Kentucky with our northern accent. We didn’t know the proper time to use “you all,” have never grown tobacco or can get “sweet tea” at our restaurants. They can’t imagine living where we have snow for months at a time, regularly have below zero temperatures or where people eat lutefisk. 
We have both adjusted to and appreciate the places where we’ve spent our lives, though they are different. Neither of us would probably be happy thrust into each other’s communities. But for several days and nights, I could appreciate the silent serenity which made it easier to wind down from some difficult times. 
Did You Ever Wonder? - If God sneezed, what would you say?