Recently in the community I live in, there has been several tragic situations that have led to the deaths of children. One toddler passed away following a valiant fight against cancer. His family’s faith and their bold witness of it is extremely humbling. Yesterday, two mothers buried their children at the same time. All three siblings, their father, and a family friend died in a plane crash just minutes away from the local airport. Just this weekend, I learned of a former classmate whose 18-year-old son passed away suddenly.
My heart feels so much sadness for these mothers. I cannot imagine the despair they are going through. I have known the pain and the notable silence of a life without children that my barrenness once caused. But now that I am a mother, I cannot even wrap my head around going from sitting in a home that used to be filled with the chatter of a teenager engaging in an energetic conversation, a television in the background blasting a video game, or the imaginative sound effects children make when they play, to sitting in that same home that is now silent. I cannot fathom what it must feel like to walk into a home that once housed children with great dreams, loving embraces, and inquisitive yearnings about life, that now houses empty spaces, thick tears, precious (yet painful) memories, wounded hearts, and sorrowful aches.
Sometimes I long for just one moment of complete silence in the home or the car. Sometimes I wished my little ones could dial down the volume a bit; or at least, maybe not like the sound of their own voices quite as much as they do. These recent tragedies in my community have helped me to keep it all in perspective though.
I will take the squeals, the laughter, the “I’m gonna tell mommy”, the fights, the cries, and the constant chatter. I will take the background noise of a television that is too loud, or the bang of a drum from a little boy who thinks he is rock star. I will take the non-stop questions of soon-to-be 4-year-old who still thinks it is never too early to get out of bed in the morning, or implores for her questions to be answered.
Actually, I am not just gonna take it. I am going to embrace it. I am going to remember the gift of noise. I am going to be grateful for my Heavenly Father who has given it all to me.
I am going to embrace the noise.