One of the most beautiful, serene carols of the Christmas season is the hymn, “Silent Night.” It is likely also one of the most sung. More folks seem to know the words than to other carols of the season.

We sang it last Sunday at church. It seems to me that it is softer, calmer and more tranquil than most of the genre. It brings me to stillness, somberness and quiets my thoughts as the words are sung.

Silence itself is unusual in our hurried pace of life. Oh, there are those who are definitely uncomfortable with silence, but since a young girl, I’ve been a fan.

Today there are so many distractions and so much noise that being quiet, calm or silent challenges most — yet I hunger for it. It’s not simply because I’m used to it, being a widow and all, but it does help me in many ways.

Growing up in a big household, there were always sounds of various intensities. As if we five kids didn’t create enough on our own, our Daddy played a banjo or was cheering to the sport he enjoyed on the television. Mom had the radio on the kitchen and sang along with her favorites, especially “Satisfied Mind” by Jean Shepherd, as she rattled her pots and pans — or cookers and skillets as she called them.

Growing up in the hollers of Appalachia, despite the business of hard working and literal hollering to one another’s neighbors, there were times of absolute stillness and quiet as well. Without street lights, there was total darkness.

Now that might seem scary to many of you, but it was the most comforting feeling in the world to me. I could nestle down into my featherbed with the heaviness of homemade quilts stacked on until I couldn’t turn and feel the safest and most secure of all. Alone with my thoughts was always a favorite spot to be.

Until I was old enough to stay with my grandmother, who had a cuckoo clock that ticked constantly and clucked on the hour, my silent nights didn’t get interrupted. Oh, I adapted and soon was shutting it out, but somehow it removed a bit of the magic with being alone in total silence.

If only a ticking — even clucking or chining — clock were the only distractions we faced, life would be grand.

There are people I know who are afraid of being alone and being quiet is completely foreign to them. They have my deepest sympathies.

My own mother hated being alone, leaving a radio on 24/7. She didn’t want to return to a totally quiet house. It was really a distraction for me, especially when she had the television going at the same time. Hearing them in unison is not conducive to peace and calm.

Being alone with my thoughts is wonderful. Sometimes it’s spent remembering good times with loved ones living and dead. Sometimes bad experiences surface but are quickly squelched because we know nothing good will come from that.

Sometimes, there is an

“One is a whole number. You don’t need a constant companion or audience to be who you truly are.”