Quietness

Friday found me alone.

Mem was gone for most of the day, E-man was at school, Jake & Joe were hunting with Dad.

Just me, and the house, with a to-do list a mile long ~ but oddly, I felt little pressure to address any of those items.

I did clean. And do some laundry. And grade some papers. Read the paper. Crocheted a bit on the gifts I didn't finish in time for Christmas.

After a couple of hours, though, I acknowledged the restlessness within: what was causing the feelings of being so unsettled?

The Quiet Voice sliced through: This is what your heart has desired.

Memories flooded of the many times I'd pled for "QUIET!"; the times I'd searched for a calm spot in the house to hide for 10 minutes; the demanding, self-centeredness of, "When I'm in the car alone, I listen to NOTHING because I need to just hear the QUIET!"

I was pierced. A bit of future glimpsing was painful. I'd said so many times that I knew the days would come when my house would be clean and "peaceful," but also knew I'd miss the noise and dirt. But I didn't really believe that. Not with all that happens in these walls.

And here I was. Alone. Able to do whatever my heart desired in the moment. I could even clean my dirty, neglected house. No one underfoot or needing me for anything!

And yet ~ quite miserable.

I cried to the One who keeps account of all my tears; asked for forgiveness, the granting of repentance. And then got busy.

Through a long-winded, tearful conversation with God, I picked up chip crumbs from under the dining room table. Towels off the floor. Socks off the stairs. Muddy shoes found their place. Legos were carried to the boys' room rather than left in a pile for them to deal with later, a mound composed with an angry spirit.

Thankful for the chips and socks and 23 Lego parts. For the kids who leave them. The ones who would be home soon.

Older moms, our job is to look those young moms in the eyes and implore them to savor each and every moment, to serve and die to self and live in each hour the Lord gives them with their children, to not wish away any part of their day, to stop and listen to and be thankful for the noise.

Younger moms, your job is to listen. Before you can breathe much more, your kids will be gone. And your clean, lovely house will bring you a stillness and quietness that you never wanted. And you will wonder why you ever wished any of it away...