Rejoice in the Silence

Being a stay-at-home mom sometimes makes you feel a slave. Not to the family or to the society or to the world outside.  No, but to the words/worlds spinning inside of your head. Sometimes you can be your own worst enemy by giving those voices power. Space in your head that had been occupied by screaming children, colicky babies, dogs barking or the sounds of infants rustling bedclothes ekeing out of intercoms. 

When my youngest child went off to kindergarten I wept. My husband walked us to school, and she left, leaving me knees buckling under the memory of walking that kindergartner to school in the stroller. Blonde curls askew around her head like a halo. Now this coltish child stood in line against the wall waiting for her teacher just like her brother and sister had before her. Beloved had to hold my shoulders as we walked away. I went home to her bedroom and sat on her bed and cried, fingering the hem of her sheets with thoughtful purpose.

Now What. 

There were times during that year that Silence was the enemy. It pervaded my days like a wash of Indian ink, coloring the days. I tried to fill it with lunches, coffee dates, walks with the dogs, going to the market together or the gym. While those all have fed my soul tremendously, sometimes I saw those an escape of the reality of what was going on at home. Piles of laundry. Dusty floors. Mildew around the shower curtains. Tub rings... 

(Being in Spain taught me to appreciate the power of a housemaid, that is for sure ;) ). 

But it also taught me a new appreciation for the house we own. While nothing flashy, no cathedral ceilings or crown moldings, it is enough. It is warm and snug and lets in plenty of sunlight. The backyard is tiny but allows me privacy and peace and a place to putter in the garden and to peg out the laundry.

 It is symmetric with a staircase that splits the house in two and takes care of its occupants on both sides of the aisle ;) and each floor has the exact same square footage as the one above it. 

 I came home with a new appreciation for the life we'd made here little things like our house with its carpet (no fitted carpets in Vitoria, friends!) and granite island and working four-burner stove. Oh never underestimate the power of a working stove! And I noticed that now, more than ever, I enjoy it. I like being in the kitchen. I like cleaning the bathrooms. I like the sensation of gleaned carpets. Simple pleasures. 

This past week I was reminded again of the sweetness of Silence. I have discovered a sweet sensation. Doing the dishes in silence. No TV, no music. No cradling the phone impossibly with one shoulder. I stand in front of my sink and look out at the window. Washing the dishes and placing them in their stations in the washer or in the cabinets. In silence.

 Where I listen to the jangle of silverware, the sound of plate scraping against plate. Even the sweet thrum of the cabinet shelves rolling out to meet their responsibility. It soothes me. It reminds me of the meals I served on them, the ingredients I prepared. The stove that worked to cook these items (shocking!). It's just a nice little reprieve from the noise that will be my neighbor as the day progresses. 

I remember reading an article about the simple pleasures of cooking. One woman dismissed the use of food processors. She saw this as a sacrilege against the sensation of your fingers and hands transforming the food. The peels of the carrots as they slide across your wrist. The grit of potato against your skin. The tactile experience of creating your own nourishment. 

So tomorrow I will get up. I will make the children's lunches. I will drink my large bowl of coffee and then check my email, then help them get ready for school. And when the children are gone, I will wrap their pregnant silence around me and take it with me. 

This is the day. This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it. --Psalm 118:24