Quiet
Part of what drew us to the country was the quiet landscape. There is some irony to this, considering the interior of our home is now louder than ever. But it is this new noisy backdrop that has deepened my appreciation for silence.
To be clear, I find great joy in the sounds of Oliver singing, playing, and running around, and in Alice babbling and rattling her toys. But these sounds, combined with incessant chatter, tantrums, and crying episodes, make for a soundscape that is rarely still. Even the concept of quiet has yet to register with Oliver—his sister is often woken from her slumber by a brother stomping or screeching randomly. We still laugh about the time we were at church and I whispered, “Shhh,” to Ollie while we stood in line for communion. He loudly replied, “WHAT’S SHHH?!”
Recently, both of the kids napped, at the same time, for an extended period (two and a half hours!). I felt paralyzed with indecision, unsure how best to spend this gift of unexpected downtime. I was already caught up on household chores, and though there is always something to do, I decided to lie down on the couch and do nothing, not even nap. I stared at the living room and soaked up the quiet. Looking around the house from where I lay, I felt immense gratitude: for my family, for my home, for my life.
The daily grind permits little time for stepping back from the life we are so immersed in and truly observing it, simply being in it. I felt like someone at an art museum, studying a painting or photograph of a still life, searching the scene for beauty and hidden meaning. Much of our lives are spent thinking about the next thing: the next meal, the next purchase, the next event, the next stage. Without stopping to fully enjoy the “nexts” that have already arrived, and are passing. I try hard to be present throughout the day, but it is always a struggle. I wish these moments of pause came more easily, even in the midst of unquiet chaos.
It is through moments of stillness and reflection that we are often better able to hear God. In 1 Kings 19:12, God reveals Himself to the prophet Elijah not dramatically, but through quietness: “After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”
How are we to connect with our Creator when we are bombarded with duties and distractions? Quiet need not be dramatic or uninterrupted to matter. Sometimes it looks like a few minutes alone before the children wake, a silent drive, or a pause in the middle of the day to notice the life we are already living. Perhaps quiet is not merely the absence of noise, but the presence of attention—the kind that allows gratitude, perspective, and even God’s whisper to find us.
