Sometimes I stay up after everyone else has gone to bed, just to hear it.
Because even though I love the noise and busyness, the buffets and baths, brushing the heads of long, clean, wet hair, the laundry being put away before bedtime, the songs, stories, and prayers, the visits with big kids, episodes of Cake Boss, the starting of the dishwasher and changing the last load from the washer to the dryer, and straightening things up for morning. . .
The quiet calls.
Sometimes I answer it even when I should be answering the wiser sleep.
My brain can focus, my heart can ponder, my spirit feels at rest.
Of course I can hear Him in the noise, too.
In the laughter, the kisses, the smiles, hugs, even tears. . . the basketball game with cousins, the giggling around the fire pit on the back patio in the dark, the trampoline jumping late at night, the movie with Granddad and Grandmother, the Christmas dinner leftovers (someone PLEASE save me from those rice krispy treats!).
But when it's all settled down, the Coach and the eight are sleeping, and I sit. Finally alone.
The quiet is mine.
Until my eyes won't stay open any longer and my head starts to bob. And sliding into bed beside my snoring Coach begins to sound even more tempting than the quiet.
The day after Christmas has ended. So tired. So blessed.