Why must we always be speaking?
Speaking nothing of importance.
Lips moving at all times.
The act of aloneness with God escapes us.

We seem not to need solitude in which to allow Him to sift through
our thoughts and bring us to sensibilities. I think sometimes the noise and cares of life overpower, literally shut down, our
desire to think things through.
It's called the way of least resistance.
Simply because we think our lips must
be flapping at all times.
What we have to say, in our
humble opinion, is far better
than what He would like to say to us.

Those inspired pithy sayings that King Solomon
compiled into the book called Proverbs are for
our benefit. I love this one:

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, 
is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips 
is esteemed a man of understanding (17:28).

Isn't that priceless? Such words of wisdom from—
let's see, the wisest man who ever lived.

My husband (of fifty-two years) and I talk
incessantly, that is, at the proper time. But
first thing every morning while I'm making the
bed, he heads for the coffeepot, which he has
methodically filled and made ready for morning
the night before, gets out his favorite cup,
that same old cup he's used for fifty some years,
the sugar and creamer, napkins and spoons.
And, oh yes, the powder sugar donuts.
There's nothing better than powder sugar donuts and a
good cup of coffee with caramel macchiato (who
knows how to spell macchiato?) cream.
But then we sit in solitude and read while sipping
coffee and licking powder sugar from our lips.
Chapter upon chapter.
Finally, he speaks and starts to expound from
the chapter he's reading and
I'm so glad the silence is broken as
he shares his thoughts.

But those long moments of silence are good times. We're
living out of Covey's correct quadrant, so to speak, not
doing the urgent thing for the first hour of our day, but
doing the important thing. Having communion with a Holy God.

Jane Bennett Gaddy