There are days I just wish for quiet.

No whining.  No screaming.  No “Mama, mama! Hold me!” No noisemaker running constantly while the baby sleeps.  No breaking up fights.  No wrestling for the time and peace I need to make dinner or create an idea floating around my brain.

Quiet can be my idol.  My safe spot to run instead of the arms of the One who calms all storms (when needed) with just a word.

The silence is eerie when I do get that brief moment of quiet.  I find myself doing nothing that I had longed for and just wasting the quiet.  Wasting it on pointless endeavors.

The truth is, I really do thrive on chaos.  I thrive on painting tape and moving furniture and finding solutions to the loud realities of life.  God knows this.  It’s why he doesn’t give me quiet very often.

I grow when it’s loud.  When it’s not my preferred state of quiet.