In the Silence

Being a mother of four young children often means being surrounded by noise.  It's the noise of children playing, laughing, or fighting.  There is the noise of all the battery operated toys and cartoons.  Then there's the noise of everyone wanting my attention at the same time and unwilling to wait until someone else finishes talking because each child thinks that what he has to say is more important than what everyone else has to say.  That being said, when silence takes its turn, I almost don't know what to do with it.

Last night there was a lot of noise, as usual.  Everyone was wound up and took a while to calm down for bedtime.  The boys were bouncing on their beds and Nyssa was playing with Gabriela.  The thump thump rhythm of the boys bouncing around was occasionally interrupted by a thud as someone fell onto the floor.  Of course, there was the usual bedtime routine and the turning off the overhead lights in exchange for the lamplight.  There was the sound of Nyssa crawling back out of Gabriela's crib as she heard us going upstairs to check on them.

But eventually the noise settled down as all the children drifted off to dreamland.  But still I waited, because rarely does the quiet last.  Sure enough, after an hour, Gabriela woke up crying with a wet diaper, but went back to sleep easily enough.  A little while later, Nathaniel woke up dazed and confused because he needed to use the bathroom.  So I helped him to the restroom and put him back in bed. 

Within 20 minutes of Nathaniel going back to sleep, Nyssa also awoke.  Instead of the usual bathroom signs, though, she was crying.  I take that back.  She wasn't crying; she was howling, loudly.  The poor baby had bad leg cramps, growing pains, that hurt her so badly they woke her from her sleep.  I went ahead and had her go to the bathroom, knowing that if I didn't, she'd have an accident later.  Then I proceeded to rub her legs for awhile, give her some ibuprofen, and make sure she was nice and warm.  I stayed by her until she fell back to sleep.  The only problem was that her howling awoke her sister once again.  This time, Gabriela had been jerked awake by a fearful sound, so it frightened her as well.  It took a while to get her settled down after Nyssa fell back to sleep, but she did relax eventually, and returned to her blissful dreams.

After Gabriela fell back to sleep, I went back downstairs for a bit.  By this time I had been awake so long that I had gone past the "sleepy" stage, even though I knew I needed the rest.  But I enjoyed the quiet.  I loved listening to the peacefulness of the night and I savored it. 

It was the sound of stillness that struck me to the core, and it was then that my heart felt satisfied.  For along with the silence was the opportunity to listen without distraction.  I love being a mother; I love my children and being able to be there for them.  But I confess that as much as I love the laughter and the sound of their little voices, I treasure the moments of silence.  When I am surrounded by noise, I cannot hear the silence.  Perhaps that is why I tend to be a night owl.  I enjoy the opportunity to just feel the day, remember the moments, and relish the time spent with my family. 

In the stillness I am reminded of how blessed I am.  In the quiet I am told that my family feels secure.  In the peaceful night the realization returns that I am exactly where I belong, doing exactly what I should be doing.  In the weary silence I am told that the day, filled with mistakes as well as joyful memories, is passed, never to return, that I should be thankful for the present I have been given, and that if I am blessed with tomorrow, I have the chance to make a difference in the lives of my children.  The silence reminds me that the day is coming, more quickly than I can imagine, when the house that is now filled with the pitter patter pat of eight little feet will have no more noises to keep me awake at night.  And I listen, because there is wisdom in the quiet.  The silence speaks volumes.