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I haven’t written much lately, in part, because of the the repetitive nature of  my life (feed, clean, change diaper, stand at the counter and work, sit on the bed and work, wash something, referee arguments over who gets the strawberry flavored Chapstick and who gets the icky black one, administer time-outs, preside over homework, cook, clean, referee arguments over who prayed for dinner last night, explain that prayer isn’t a competition, wait for my husband to call and say he’s on his way home, repeat until bedtime. Repeat the next day. Repeat. Repeat. Infinity.)

I don’t want this to be a place where I rehash every day, desperate to find some glimmering, epiphany moment. Because some days, let’s be honest, it’s just hold-on until bed time, lights out and no lessons learned.

But also, I haven’t written much because, above all of the noise in my house, in my head, in my heart, I am trying to listen.

I have found that with four children, I have become an expert at tuning out noise, at knowing which cry is frustration, which is a whine, which is a small bump and which is going to require band-aids. The rest? The running and jumping, the chatter, laughter, bickering, it all falls into the background.

As I go through the evolution of a mother, oh, I can tune stuff out.

But perhaps I haven’t been as persistent in practicing the art of tuning in. Of seeking, in silence. Of waiting with an open heart, laying in the quiet of my prayers and not speaking a word.

You see, there are big conversations happening in my heart, but if I fail to let God speak, I am just running in circles with myself.

There are big questions happening in the lives of those close to me, but if I fail to listen, how can I help?

For my own life, for the words that I speak into my children’s lives, my friends lives – I want wisdom.

I want guidance, and to remember to listen for the way I should go.

I do not want the most prosperous path, or the easiest, or even the best. I want my own. The one laid out for me before I even walked, the one that leads me home.

And that’s where I am on this Friday morning. In a quiet house, a light rain pattering over my roof, and listening.

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About the Author

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Writer, Photographer, Wife, Mother to four rambunctious and amazing children.

1 Comment so far

  1. I sat down to write almost the exact same post. For real. And now that you said it for me, I’ll go back to listening 🙂

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