Music Appreciation, Part 2

There it is again, the music that fills my house from morning to night. Sometimes I tune it out because I am doing something "more important" and just can't be bothered to listen. But then something attracts my attention and I start to listen. Behind the obvious music of the 16 year-old practicing guitar solos and the 13 year-old singing along to a song she has taught herself on the piano, while elsewhere, the 10 and 7 year-olds are singing a song from the Lord of the Rings; behind all that, lies the real music. It's the music of growing in wisdom and discernment, of goofing off and joking around. It's a music only a mother can appreciate, sometimes a music only a mother can hear. It's the sound of the little children hiding and giggling and whispering in the fort they made with couch cushions and blankets. It's the 4 year-old asking a big sister to read him a story, and she says yes; it's the baby running and laughing and throwing her arms up in the air for someone to catch her and kiss her. It's in the sound of the cast iron pot on the stove, full of a delicious dinner, bubbling and rattling the lid, while the children play in the basement, safe in the knowledge that they are loved and cared for and protected. It's the front door opening and the oft-asked question is heard: "Where's Mom?" I can hear it in the hum of the sewing machine as one of the girls is creating something beautiful while some other children are amusing themselves with drawing and coloring beautiful pictures. It floats downstairs when the baby has awakened from her nap and she is singing and calling to me and thumping her feet on the sides of her crib, and when I go get her, she squeals at the sight of me. It happens when a teenager comes to me for advice and we listen to each other and, more importantly, hear each other, all the while some kids are running outside to play and they forget to close the door, and I can hear them yelling and grabbing their bikes. Later, the younger children have fixed themselves a snack and are sharing and laughing and enjoying the food and fellowship, while the older ones are holed up in a room upstairs having a serious discussion. It's all around me, and many times I just don't hear it because I am too caught up in cooking, cleaning, school, laundry, disciplining. There is so much to hear, and I can't keep up and want to catch it all, for fear that someday I will forget what it sounded like. But when I clear my head and listen closely, the music helps the work go faster, joyfully, gratefully, carrying me all the way to the end of the day, when I finally lay my head on my pillow. Oh, that these days would never end! Lord, may I never forget these days.