The house is quiet this Saturday morning before Christmas. No boys whistling or rummaging through the refrigerator. No baby crying. Not yet. The sun is still deep in the southeast shining brightly trying hard to warm up this cold winter day. I sit on the deep couch with all it’s pillows and watch the long shadows fall from the pine trees onto the patch of green lawn--still green despite the frosty mornings that came with December.
The couch is in the music room. I really should change the name to something else. The piano moved to Annie’s house where she could daily bring it to life. It was hers anyway. The boys showed no interest. They have their own instruments. Bear strums on the guitar he got for Christmas last year and Luke plays the saxophone in the band.
But there is no sound this morning, no notes on instruments or voices from the television. I sit here alone and listen for the whisper, the Small Voice that only the heart hears.
This is what I hear:
I love you my child. You have sought me and found me. I am glorified in you as you love me and as you love others in my name. You are loved and you are allowing me to love you. I know that it hasn’t always been this way. This day, let peace rule your heart for that is part of the holy purpose of the coming of Christ—the Prince of Peace. Have joy in this quiet moment in this noisy world. There is music in the room in which you sit but your ears will not hear it until the day when you will hear the angel’s sing. It’s coming. Wait for it but do not be idle. Live, love, be bold to know that I AM is with you. Celebrate the blessings. Oh, taste and see that I am good. Savor this moment. In quietness and trust is your strength.
Overwhelmed in wonder. Loved.