A Modern Pioneer’s Path: Discovering Silence and Solitude in the Ozarks

Silence is challenging. Quieting all the noise we surround ourselves with can be eerie. What thoughts and emotions will rise to the surface once I embrace stillness? How do you practice silence and solitude in today’s world?

If I could time-travel and live in the past before phones, computers, recorded music, and all of our modern conveniences, it would be easier to experience silence and solitude. There were more mundane tasks like milking cows, chopping wood, baking bread, and sewing that had built-in quiet attached to the task. But today, we don’t have to do these chores. We can have clothing and food delivered to our front door. We can flip a switch, and our fireplace starts without any effort.

We also have schedules that are bursting at the seams. Time Magazine published an article on how busyness has even become a status symbol and a way of American life. We live with no downtime and with no regular stretches of quiet. This must be taking a toll on us. 

How do I experience silence and solitude in today’s world? 

I’ve been wrestling with how to add silence and solitude into my daily life. Silence can make me uncomfortable, and I subconsciously fight against quiet. I’ve tried to incorporate more silence into my life, but it’s a challenge with kids, a business, living in the suburbs, and modern life. 

In an attempt to lean into silence, I stopped turning on the radio in the car and listening to music in the shower. But, I wanted more. I wanted to lean into this spiritual discipline that seems to have eluded our modern era. 

One morning I was praying, actually it was more like wrestling with God. I was just sharing with Him that I just don’t know how to live in silence and solitude. Is it just available for people in a different season of life? Do I need to wait until I’m an empty-nester to live into this spiritual discipline? I came away from that conversation with God with no answer. 

Then my phone rang.

An opportunity opened up for us to live on a ranch in the middle of nowhere in the Ozarks. No neighbors. No town. I got off that call and thought, ok God, I get it. Am I supposed to experience silence and solitude there?

The Modern Pioneer Journey from Suburbia to the Ozarks

We drove across the country to live a completely different life. It felt like we went back in time to the pioneer days (and we went to enough festivals set in the late 1800’s to believe it). We handwashed dishes, hung up our clothes on the clothesline, gardened, picked apples, and lived on almost 200 acres of land. There was no 911. There wasn’t a single radio station, not even an AM station. 

Going ‘to town’ was something we’d plan for in advance because of the drive. To get to a real city, where there were more options, was an hour and a half away. Our life of convenience, noise, and people vanished. In fact, there was only one person per square mile in the county. We’d go days without seeing a soul. 

I struggled at first with the silence and isolation. I’d listen to podcasts to fill the void. My phone distracted me. But I kept feeling like I wasn’t fully embracing this new way of life. I didn’t want to squander this opportunity. I intentionally started to lean into the quiet and solitude.

A New Way of Life

Washing every dish by hand was something I dreaded. I’ve always had the luxury of a dishwasher. To be honest, I was frustrated at how time-consuming the dishes were. It forced us to slow down. While on the ranch, we washed the dishes as a team. James would bring the dishes to me and put away the meal, while I washed. Our kids dried and put the dishes away. Not having a dishwasher forced us to work together in a way that we normally don’t, which was a blessing. 

I was pleasantly surprised how much I enjoyed hanging my clothes on the line. Bringing a chore outdoors helped me to slow down. I was able to notice the subtle color changes in the leaves, breathe in the fresh air, watch the birds, and slow my pace.

Leaning into Silence and Solitude

This was giving me a taste of what it’s like to slow down, embrace the quiet, and lean into solitude. But I still felt the itch for more. Years ago I had a desire to stay at a monastery and experience a silent retreat. This kind of experience would be so different from my daily life. I longed to get a taste of what true silence and solitude looked like. Yet, it just wasn’t practical back home. The nearest monastery that I knew of was seven hours away. I just wasn’t going to make that drive alone.

Surprisingly, a monastery was less than a twenty-minute drive from the ranch we were living on. I’m in awe of how God went above and beyond to answer my prayer of wanting to experience silence and solitude. I was able to live my everyday life for two months in the quiet AND I could finally experience a silent retreat. 

To be honest, I’ve been playing out what a silent retreat would be like in my mind for years, and I was kind of nervous. I didn’t want to blow this opportunity. On the drive to the monastery, I was praying out loud. It was early morning and a thin cloud-like mist was hovering over the rolling wooded hills. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It reminded me of the creation story in Genesis, where the Spirit hovered over the waters.

A little farther down the road I was driving slow for no apparent reason, then right before me were four deer crossing the road. I was able to easily stop for them. It felt like God was having me slow down to protect me and them. God was meeting me even before I was at the monastery. 

Silent Retreat Reflections at a Monastery

I came to the abby, and sat inside their sanctuary in a lone chair next to a stained-glass window. I was ready to encounter Jesus in a deeper way, and He delivered. I read the entire book of Proverbs, journaled nineteen pages, hiked, napped, and sat in His presence. I brought up every struggle I have, and he clearly spoke to me in profound ways. God showed up. 

I’ve been struggling with feeling like I have to do it all and that’s something I need to let go of. During my silent retreat, the Lord said this to me:

You are carrying a burden you don’t have to. Remember, I said lay down your heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Believe in the supernatural. It’s not by your power that you can do it all. You need me to do what you need to do. My expectations of you are not the expectations you have for yourself. Stop doing, doing, doing and focus on being, being, being. Take time to spend with me. I long to be with you. Come away with me. You are not behind, you’re just running ahead.

He spoke to my soul over and over again. 

While I was there, I took a trail that had crosses along the path. It wasn’t well-maintained. The rugged and overgrown trail followed a creek that I had to cross multiple times. At one point, the trail became part of the wilderness, stopping me from going forward. 

This trail experience reminds me of our life with God. The more we travel alongside and with Him, the more groomed the trail is. It’s an easier hike with fewer obstacles in the way. When our lives become overgrown, the trail becomes treacherous, part of the world, and untamed. I want to spend consistent time with Jesus, so my trail becomes well-maintained, and I can pay attention to my surroundings instead of looking where my feet need to go. 

I went away from my silent retreat refreshed, but also empowered to have silent retreats in my everyday life. I was struck with the thought that I don’t need to go to a monastery to have an experience like this. I can have this kind of experience on a hike, in my home, on a vacation, literally anywhere. It’s like my eyes were opened to the opportunity and availability to lean into silence and solitude without having to go to a place where the monks have taken a vow of silence.

Home Again: Suburban Silence and Solitude

Now that I’m home, I’m back to a life that is easily filled with convenience, noise, and distractions. I have to purposefully lean into silence and solitude.

I’ve had little ah-ha moments like when we came home, we listened to music. Hearing it shocked me. I had the realization that I hadn’t listened to music (unless it was live) for two whole months. The noise was just too much. I’m still struggling to listen to music, which used to be a way of life. 

I’ve created a quieter morning routine with a designated spot for me to read my Bible and journal. I’m trying to spend consistent time with Jesus. I want to trample out those weeds and have a well-maintained walk with the Lord.

I’m still working out what longer periods of silence and solitude look like, and I’m looking forward to them. Before I was anxious of what it would be like to be still and experience solitude, but I don’t anymore. I recognize my need to step back and spend quality time with Jesus. 

Looking back at my childhood, my mom had a pink coffee mug with her favorite verse: Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I’m God.” I remember liking that mug and thinking that I knew what it meant, but I really didn’t. Today, I have a better understanding of this verse. Being still takes effort. It’s stopping, waiting, and being quiet, and then we can know God.