Memory: I am standing in the door frame of a large warehouse in Murray, Kentucky, with my feet planted and twisting my upper torso to relieve the tension in my back. I am working at a candy company, one of those that makes gift baskets of chocolate covered pretzels and toffee and ships them off at Christmas time to people. I am working for a man who isn’t exactly easy to work for; that is putting it nicely. All of a sudden he says to me with irritation in his voice, “Shanel, why are you always sighing?”
Hmmm. I didn’t know I sighed that much.
In retrospect, I can see clearly. My family and I had just moved from northern California to Murray, Kentucky. Quite a change in scenery in more ways than one. We had come hoping to find some financial relief from the struggle of living in pricey California. We got there and we had no place to live, no place to put all our stuff, no jobs, no schools. It was probably one of the hardest times in my family’s life. We were overwhelmed with heat and thick southern humidity. We were terrified of every bug we saw. We were confused by all the people that would wave at us as we drove down the road thinking they were all quite crazy when really they were just doing their southern hospitality thing. Thunder storms were a spectacular show to us. We were stunned by the fact that we were living in one of the few remaining “dry” counties where they did not permit alcohol. And it was the South and we were from the west coast–the cultural and societal differences were, let’s just say so as to be polite, quite astronomically different.
My dad barely saved my ass by somehow working miracles to get me into the local university for my freshman year of college, after I had written multiple variations of my social security number on all my applications, confusing everyone and thus stalling my admittance to the school. Thinking about it now, I wonder if my dad hadn’t been so persistent and determined, as he is known to be, would I have ever gone to college? With the extreme stress we were under with the transition of moving to a very foreign place away from all that was familiar and home, I could easily see my self just giving up all together on the hope of going to college. I may have never become a nurse. I could have possibly never been a part of InterVarsity where my life was radically changed by the Scriptures and being in community with an amazing group of believers. Things would have turned out so differently. I don’t know if I would have ended up in Chicago. And then there would be no Ivan, no Martens’ clan, no Audrey Anne. I probably would have just moved back to California after that first year if I hadn’t done the college thing and resumed life there in the Coastlands church. Who would I have become? Isn’t it amazing how many roads we can walk down but we choose specific ones and some just open up for us as the only way to go seemingly. I am realizing this is completely tangential to my main point. Sighs.
My frequent sighing continued on for many years and over time, as Jesus brought “vents”, so to speak, to let out my internal angst, sorrow and fear, I sighed less. It wasn’t until I moved to Chicago, after being here a year or two, that the sighing stopped all together. Sighing has always signaled to me that something is askew and turbulent within me. Often, I don’t have much access to understanding or knowing what the turbulence is all about, but I am conscious that it is there.
Lately, I have been sighing more. Something is up. I long for long periods of quiet where I can just breathe, listen, be still and reflect. It’s hard to do that with a lil’ Audrey Anne in your house and trying to juggle three jobs. But I am resourceful. I have had a tradition or discipline of sorts of doing regular retreats of silence. I think it is time for another one. Anyone sighing a lot and want to come with me?