Monday: The Silence of the Valley

Ezekiel 37:1–2 — “He set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones.”

Sacred Invitation

There is a silence that feels sacred.
And a silence that feels abandoned.
Sometimes we don’t know which one we’re in until much later.

Today, we begin in the valley—not with answers, not with breath, but with bare ground and dry bones.
We are here to see what we’ve avoided. To feel what we’ve numbed.
To admit: this is where we are.

You are not alone here.
The Spirit has not brought you here to leave you.
Only to show you what’s true.

Daily Reflection

There are places in us that feel lifeless.
Dreams long buried.
Faith worn thin.
Hope we packed away because it hurt too much to hold.

Lent does not rush us past these places.
It walks us right into the middle of them.
Not to shame us.
But to let the silence speak.

Today is not for solving.
It is for seeing.
For naming the ache without a tidy bow.
For standing still in the valley and saying—this, too, is part of the story.

Somatic Practice: Sit in the Valley

Find a quiet place to sit—on the floor, on a cushion, in a chair, near the earth if possible.

Let your body be heavy.
Let your breath be slow.
Let your hands rest open—palms up or down, without judgment.

Feel the ground beneath you.
Stay for a few minutes longer than feels comfortable.
Notice what stirs, or what remains silent.
There is no right way to be here—only that you are here.

If it helps, whisper softly:
“I am in the valley.
I am not alone.
I do not have to fix this.”

Let this be enough for today.

Closing Prayer

O Spirit who meets us in silence,
In bone, in dust, in the ache beneath words—
Do not rush us past this place.
Let the stillness speak.
Let the quiet hold us.
And when it is time,
Breathe again.
Amen.