I have always been quiet. Shy. Introverted. Reclusive. I have always preferred the company of sweet, silent wrens stirring each spring morning, the simple nature of light autumn winds, and the stillness of an empty space filled with nothing but my breath and summer light peeking through my home’s white window sills. I have always craved a simple life, something the world is experiencing more of these days, and I have been learning to love my quiet heart in these quieter times.
My natural solitude is a part of me I have always been hesitant to accept. Ever since I was young, I have admired my loved ones’ more outgoing characteristics—how they long for more lively interactions, seem overjoyed in a room full of smiles, and crave human presence most of the time. Somehow, it has made me feel as if I do not belong or blend in well where I assume I am meant to fit, all because these desires have been fears of mine ever since I can remember. It leads me to wonder if I am the only person on this earth who feels more at ease when alone in still moments, with no one beside me to enjoy the simplicity.
Naturally, I appreciate trusting that I am not the only one who feels more content living life on my own. And yet, this knowing still doesn’t ease the worry that life is meant to be lived in communion by showing love for and being transparent with others, both of which have never been easy feats for me. But part of this season of life has cemented physical ties to one another, leaving me more time to affirm that indeed, it is okay to have a quiet heart and desire a quiet life.
It is okay to strive to be humble, grounded, and down-to-earth. It is okay to want to be modest, elegant, and bashful. It is okay to pray to be soft, gentle, and stilled. It is okay, because the world needs more delicate fawning in each of our days, the kind that leaves hearts feeling more peaceful than they were found. Truly, there isn’t anything more I’d like to become than this, because this is what I trust is wholesome and true.
The world is hurried. It is always busy and always active. It slowly buries our hearts, leaving us growing more and more tired with each hustled step. It celebrates and mimics the naturally sociable and approachable, celebrating apparent confidence while forgetting the beauty of a calm essence and kind eyes. I have often felt unwelcome in its presence, longing for a more heavenly and graceful place to call home. But I think part of the artistry of quiet hearts is that they can help quiet our world, inviting more felicity into a home that so often speaks anything but. I trust that there will always be true contentment to be found in honest humility, which I pray more souls will seek more and more of in this season destined for quieter moments.