I've sat in a quiet house for over an hour this evening. The kids went to bed a little late, squeezing in the finishing of homework and evening showers. My tired husband joined them in sleep not long after. I told him I would be turning in soon, but I haven't been able to follow through. It's because of the silence. I needed it. And if I sleep, I'll miss it.
There is not one thing I would change about our happy home or the beautifully loud people in it. They fill every sun-filled hour with giggles and shouts and the thumps of wrestling and questions and still more laughter. I adore the sounds in our house.
But, my days are so filled with the noise of taking care of the people I love, I sometimes hunger for the silence that takes care of my own heart. The kind of silence that invites my mind to slow itself into a pause. The kind of silence that wraps itself around and shields from the laundry undone and the floor unswept. The kind of silence that beckons my Jesus to speak into the inmost parts of my soul.
It's why I lept at the opportunity to take an hour and a half drive to run an errand for my husband last week. All alone on my beloved Texas roads, the hills capped with a rare snow. Sometimes music, sometimes not. Just me. And Him.
I read once that you know you have true love if you can sit together for an hour in silence and not feel awkward in the least.
I think we're there, He and I.
