Not alarmed

I overslept this morning. Me, who usually jumps out of bed way before dawn, refused to face the fact that our family routine was beginning once again. Or maybe it’s simply because of all the late, late nights I had over the past two weeks.

My husband got up to make sure Noah was headed to the shower. I lay in bed listening to them move through the house. I could see Noah moving in the bathroom in my mind’s eye as I heard him flick the light switch, turn on the shower and put up the toilet seat. For a moment, I decided to listen to the noises my house makes - pets, cars outside, multiple bathrooms - and every once in a while I heard one that I couldn’t readily identify. Steve's electric razor, for instance. When he first turned it on this morning, I thought it was JJ’s alarm clock or faint music, so I lay very still listening intently until I could single out the sound from all the others, and soon I realized it was the razor.

Ever have that happen? Ever hear something, a familiar something, but it takes you a couple of moments to discern what it is?

Before I jumped up to make breakfast and school lunches, I told God that I was listening today. Sometimes it’s hard to discern Him in the midst of all the other noises, especially as the day progresses and the world gets louder. But I have decided to live alert.

He is familiar to me, but if listening is not intentional on my part, He can be lost in the shuffle of my noisy existence. If I combine the noise outside with the rattle inside my head, it can actually be a Petri dish for deafness. Our noise level is somewhat alarming, really.

Turn the world off and listen. Don’t read. Don’t pray. Don’t do. Just be still and listen.