Silence Asks Questions

Have you ever realized that sometimes unexpected seasons pop up and surprise you, like a summer storm that wasn't on the forecast.

I find myself in one of those now... and it caught me by surprise. I wasn't sure what the change was at first... what was affecting my mood or emotional barometer. I sat with it daily for a few weeks... wondering.

Then I realized I was missing my morning calls from my girls who check in nearly every day on the drive to drop the kids off at school or on her walk. Those chats definitely filled my cup. A quick catch-up, a story about the kids, an update on our day... and "Bye... love ya."

Then there were the texts throughout the day with my four daughters and me.This thread has been alive for years. Sharing pictures. Funny updates on kid commentary. Relatable memes  that made us LOL. Request for support. Questions that WEB MD would have been the go-to before this thread ever existed.

"Do you think I should take Charlie to the doctor?"
"Is this normal?"

Four years ago I accidentally deleted the thread once by swiping left when I was really just trying to wipe a cracker crumb off my phone. I literally cried when that happened.

As it so happened, after the morning calls subsided a few weeks ago, the text thread dropped from daily chatter to a chirp.

The kids are getting older. They're all in activities. The girls have the kids, carpools, work-from-home jobs, houses to manage, schedules to juggle, dentist appointments... And the last thing they need to worry about is responding to a screenshot about my excitement about next week's weather.

So what I realized is that over a period of a few weeks, my source of dopamine and love bombs that I silently counted on had come to a screeching halt. And I finally admitted it made my days feel a little emptier.

The feeling reminded me of the time during the pandemic when I was sick and dealt with months of lingering symptoms that kept me isolated at home. During that season, I felt emotions that were hauntingly familiar to the grief I experienced after losing my husband and my dad.

That season forced me to face those feelings and answer the question...

Why does this hurt? The answer surprised me. Because it felt like rejection. It was a fear I'd carried my whole life.

So here is this new season. Instead of love and laughter lighting up my phone with calls and texts, my companion has been silence... and the ghost of my own internal demons.

And as God often does, instead of changing the rhythm back to where it was to make me comfortable, He made me even more uncomfortable by introducing a family member's illness.

I feel like I'm there with her… questioning everything about my role in my relationship with her from childhood... and what life would be like without her. More grief.

And where I would typically talk all of this through with my team (my girls), I've been processing it on my own. Sitting quietly and finding perspective. Really sinking into where God wants me to be… Just in it.

So I found myself asking a question I hadn't expected. Who are you if you're not needed?

That made me think. I'm a mom. I'm a grandma. But those are roles... are they who I am?

So I kept going.

I'm a woman who loves the moonlight and the sound of the wind turning the leaves upside down in the trees.

I someone who loves writing stories about how life feels. And I a soul who sees heaven in every sunset.

And somewhere deep inside, I’m a little girl who fears not having love in my life.

So, I've determined that this is actually one of my favorite seasons.

What began with quieter mornings gave way to an emptier cup... which led to familiar feelings... which turned into questions I didn't even know I needed to ask.

I think about how easily I could have tried to fill the silence. I could have pestered people to fill my time... fill my text feed... fill my cup... answer my calls.

But that would have only masked what I was able to uncover.

The real nugget—Understanding who I am if I'm not needed after more than forty years of being needed. And recognizing that underneath it all was an old fear of not having love in my life.

I find comfort in knowing God has been there, loving me through every season. And He'll still be there at the last sunset. 

Shelli Netko (c) 2026