This week, as I joined my church in fasting and praying, I found myself drawn to a profound and timely lesson my mother once shared in a book she contributed to years ago. The book, The Young Professional Woman: Breaking into the Business World and Succeeding by Linda Ellis Eastman, features Chapter 9, written by my mother, entitled Quiet Time. Her words, written decades ago, resonate with me now more than ever as I reflect on the importance of silence, inward reflection, and spiritual connection during this week of abstinence and prayer.

Her chapter begins with a powerful scripture:

“The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock.” – Matthew 7:25

In her writing, my mother shares how this verse became her anchor during a time of deep despair following the loss of her dear friend and line sister, Aunt Mary. She recounted how, in the midst of grief, she sought solace in silence. She retreated to a quiet space in the mountains, where she could overlook serene views of the peaks and a tranquil pond. There, she found strength in meditation, prayer, and walking the labyrinth—a four-day retreat that grounded her in the discipline of silence.

What struck me most from her chapter was this line:

“What is this mystery called silence? It is a practice of being present in the moment. It is a time of quieting thoughts, letting go, listening, being, and becoming.”

This week of fasting reminded me of her wisdom. For six hours each day, I abstained from food and drink, intentionally using that time to connect with God and center my spirit. It wasn’t just a physical fast but an emotional and spiritual realignment—a time to listen, to breathe, and to let go.

My mother emphasized that silence is a discipline. She wrote:

“Professional career women are adept at planning, but the time of silence must be as much a part of your calendar and daily routine as everything else.”

How true that is! In our fast-paced world, silence often feels like a luxury, something we “get to” only after completing everything else. But silence is not optional for the believer—it is essential. It is where we hear God’s voice most clearly, where we discover strength to endure life’s storms, and where we become rooted on the rock that will not fall.

This week, my quiet time has been guided by my mother’s reflections. Her discipline of silence reminds me that fasting isn’t just about abstaining—it’s about drawing near, becoming still, and finding God in the quiet moments.

And indeed, it is. Strength to face the chaos. Strength to endure loss. Strength to rebuild on a solid foundation.

She quoted Lao Tzu:
“Silence is a source of strength.”

I share this today because I believe the lesson of silence is one we all need. Whether we’re fasting, grieving, or simply overwhelmed by the demands of life, we must find space for quiet. Silence is not an escape—it’s a means of renewal.

So I encourage you, as I’ve been encouraged by my mother’s wisdom, to carve out time for silence. Whether it’s five minutes or an entire day, let it become part of your rhythm. Be present. Let go. Listen. And in that silence, find your strength.

Bloom in the quiet.
Bloom in the strength.
Bloom in Him.

In love and charity,

Giselle (aka) Blooming-lillie