Sweet Melodies

“What’s that sound, mommy?” My daughter asked as we played outside last week.

“What sound, baby?”

“That sound.”

All I could hear was the rustle of the leaves in the trees. The perfect fall sound track. The breeze in the trees has a different cadence in November than in August. My daughter just hadn’t picked up on it yet.

Life in a house of 3 small children can be quite noisy. An anxious dog does not help. My son participates daily in a 5 hour long football game in my living room all by himself. The vacuum runs  often. Music always in the background.

Lively and chaotic. Laughter and joy.

And all of it can be quite overstimulating as a mom.

Never any quiet. Rarely an uninterrupted thought.

Often when my youngest daughter is crying uncontrollably, I’ll carry her out to the front stoop. The breeze on her face and the quiet but consistent sound of life calm her. She quiets to listen, to look, to feel. Free from the four walls around her that bounce sounds back and forth merging everything into a dissonant jumble, the open air allows her (and I, if I am being honest) to slow down. To differentiate the sounds, and isolate them. Hearing not noise, but the rustle of leaves, the song of the birds, the distant lawn mower cutting the grass.

When your mind is jumbled and everything is happening to fast, all I hear is sound. Noise. Like clinging of cymbals.

“Is it always this loud?” Yes it is.

In the thick of it, I can lose the melody to the rhythm. The beautiful notes of laughter and conversation and imagination, to the drum beat of feet stampeding, questions pummeling, and anxious thoughts pounding through my brain.

But when I can slow down and take a breath, I can start to differentiate all that is going on around me.

Dishes are being washed after an enjoyable meal.

Crumbs are being vacuumed up by his with full bellies.

Stories are being told to expectant ears.

Questions are being asked by curious minds.

Songs are made up on the spot.

Touchdown passes are being made in the living room.

Life is being lived in abundance. Sweet and complex like a perfectly made dessert.

Also loudly.

But with a melody that speaks to the joy that wells up all around into the life that makes the sounds. Like a crescendo or a brilliantly composed bridge.

But one day the house will be quiet, and I will be able to hear creak and cracks of the house settling around me. I will be able to hear myself think.

And I will think back fondly on the boisterous sounds of a happy and healthy family in a small yet vibrant house.

I pray the Lord will give me grace to recognize the sweet melody of a life well lived.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Mellifluous".