The sleuths were on the job before seven this morning, trampling up and down the house in safety glasses and sun hats, peering through magnifying glasses for clues, and waiting beneath the attic door for robbers to emerge. They were not quiet.
The other morning it was music: drums, shakers, tambourines, and an untrained pianist. Cacophony is the appropriate word.
I’ve always loved quiet in the morning. Gentle instrumental music, or just birds outside, enough stillness to see the steam rise from my teacup, space to think and read and write.
Proverbs 27:14, with commonsensical wisdom, says that “whoever blesses his neighbor with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, will be counted as cursing.” My children haven’t learned this yet.
But I am learning. Learning to count the blessings of the noisy morning feet and exuberant morning voices, to snuggle the toddler who jostles my journaling hand, to applaud cacophonous concerts, even before seven in the morning.
I hope they’ll remember, not that their mama loved quiet, but that their mama loved her boys. Because I do.
Linking up with the Five Minute Friday community today, writing on the prompt, morning.
©Stacy Crouch 2021