Quiet

Our small group has gone home, the kids are in bed, VNB's gone to bed, the TV is off and all is quiet.

I've got piles of dishes in (and around) the sink, puffed rice cereal all over the floor, books and toys scattered about, a dining room table that's practically in my lap right now (it's so big with all the leaves in for the small group that came tonight and our house is so small)...but it's quiet. And there's no one using me for a jungle gym.

Back 10,000 years ago, before I went overseas, this was what it was like all the time (well, the TV was on occasionally). Then it was _too_ quiet. Now it's a welcome respite from the noise...but at the same time, the noise is a welcome respite from the world.

Even with all its flaws, this house is home because the people who sleep under its roof are my family - people (some smaller than others) for whom I am ceaselessly grateful and absolutely amazed to be able to call "mine."

Someday (in sha'allah), the kids will grow up, move out into the big, wide world, meet people, get married, and start families of their own. But even then, they will still be "mine" (and VNB's pretty much stuck with me "till death do us part").

And in these rare moments of quiet, I can dream dreams for them (and for us). I can pray that they will be successful in every way that the world calls "success." I can pray that they never want for anything important. I can pray that they have strong marriages and healthy families.

But mostly...mostly what I want for them is that they follow God's will for their lives, no matter where that takes them. And now that I'm a parent myself, I understand the terror that statement invokes (so, um, thanks Mommy and Daddy for supporting me in the whole "I'm going to Iraq" thing!)...but alongside the terror comes peace. Peace that God's in control and will continue to be whenever they are called to do whatever it is they will do.

But mostly peace that I don't need to worry about that today. Today I get to worry about laundry and potty training and random things they put in their mouths. Today there is noise. And every now and again, there is quiet.