I'm beginning to discover what the saints of old referred to as the inner silences: The soundproofed moments on a street corner, when the peace of God suddenly bursts in on my frantic mind. The dark nights of the soul, when I'm a desert crying out for rain. The searing loss of finally sacrificing what I've dreamed of for so long, trusting that the One who gave it knows best what to do with it. The moments when I discover that I'm not alone, when Someone is standing silently next to me, content just to be with me. The moments when I'm truly alive.