The noise in this house rattles my bones sometimes. Truth be told, it makes me a whole lot of crazy.
I wake up to noise and more times than not, I slip between the sheets at night and my girls are still making quiet noise upstairs. Like right now, it’s 9:00 and the girls have become a Taylor Swift quartet. I can hear “We Are Never, Ever, Ever Getting Back Together” all the way downstairs. And I think I hear the boys chiming in with the “yeahs” at all the right parts. I’m sure if I climbed the stairs, I would find all 6 kids piled into one room, in costume, acting out the video. In my mind’s eye, I can see Isaac in a shark costume that is 2 sizes too small and I’m pretty sure he is taking himself way too seriously.
I should probably stomp up the stairs and scare them into the bed, but I won’t.
I’m trying really hard to bite my tongue and embrace the noise.
To embrace who God has created them to be.
I’ve spent years trying to keep them quiet and still and obedient. I’ve zipped their lips and calmed their tapping feet and given stern looks from across the room at the slightest movement that I deemed out of line.
But what if God’s perfect design for my family was to create a noisy, rowdy bunch of world changers?
What if He delights in all the noise and passion and energy that threatens to raise the roof in our old house each day?
Instead of trying so hard to muzzle these cubs of mine, what if I let them roar?