A Reverent, Majestic Ancient Silence

Have you ever heard silence so quiet it’s actually loud? I highly recommend it. 

If you haven’t, you should really visit the Scottish Highlands. Well, you should do that anyway. I’ve never heard silence quite like the few times I’ve traipsed through the highlands of Scotland. 

A little backstory: Dalton and I visited Scotland 11 years ago, right  

Jenny Shotwell

before we jumped into parenting. We loved Scotland so much that we decided to name our second child, Skye, after the Isle of Skye, which we both felt was one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

I have some Scottish heritage in my background. In fact, my grandparents' home in Seattle they named “Glencoe Manor”; they had a plaque on the fireplace and everything. I grew up knowing that I was a MacDonald of Glencoe - if you’re familiar with the sordid history of this bunch, these are the MacDonalds that were famously (infamously?) massacred in the middle of the night by the neighboring Campbells. In 1692, King William was adamant that all the clans recognize him as their rightful king. The MacDonalds were stubborn and delayed their profession of allegiance to him (as a true MacDonald would do!), and in the meantime, the Campbells — having already professed their allegiance to him — were put to the task of proving their allegiance by killing their neighbors in the middle of the night. Good times. 

The first time we went, one of the first places we went to was Glencoe. This was the first place we felt and heard this truly deafening silence. We both keenly remember the feeling of the silence and the almost reverent nature of it. Dalton aptly described it as an “ancient silence”, which is such a beautiful description. 

While the Glencoe MacDonalds are a stronghold of my ancestry, the “Seat of Donald” is on the Isle of Skye at the Castle Armadale. The Seat of a clan is effectively where their headquarters were and are. 

Skye is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Our daughter Skye has truly lived up to her name in her beauty and in her stubborn, ancestral MacDonald-ness. Dalton joked that we could have named her Braveheart. 

There’s just no denying that when I am in Scotland I can deeply feel my ancestry, and I feel a real kinship with the Scottish people and, certainly, the topography of Scotland. 

I have always loved being out in nature and the sense of calm and quiet that accompanies a long hike in the mountains. Link that with not only an incredibly beautiful location but a deep sense of belonging in some weird, indescribable way, and Scotland holds a dear piece of my heart. 

While we were on Skye this time, we went on a quiet hike away from all the tourism (that’s another blog). Early on in the hike, we both had to stop and listen around us for the sound we, perhaps without discussing it, had been hoping to hear. Silence. Ancient silence. There it was. Well, except for the clickety-clack of the rammed sheep across the loch over there. 
It was beautiful. It was profound. It was reverent and it was majestic. For the brief moments we stood there, I think we both felt a refreshment and a peacefulness that we were hoping to find again in Scotland. 

I have carried that refreshment home and the silent moment we both shared. The whole trip was magical and a wonderful memory and “reset” for us in our fast-paced, blessed world we inhabit on a daily basis. But that moment was a gift to us from God. A reminder that, not only is the world stunningly beautiful, but sometimes the most profound moments in our lives and the ones we carry the longest are the most quiet. 

In His Name, Jennie