The sound of the entire lego bucket being dumped onto the
floor and then the sound of little feet running back and forth in between bedrooms
coercing siblings to come and play and build lego mansions and castles and
things of gigantuous proportion are the sounds that wake me on this rainy,
contemplative Saturday morning. I
can’t remember the last time I woke to a “quiet” Saturday morning, but I
wouldn’t trade the loud Saturday morning ruckus we have goin’ on here or any of
our loud and busy days for anything. 
The days are long and loud but the years are flying by
quickly and quietly. This week the kids and I took a walk down memory lane in
our photo albums and I saw the last 12 years of my life slip by in the 30 minutes
of reminiscing through pictures. The roses, the ring, the proposal, the romance
of those early days brought tears to my eyes and gratefulness to my heart. Then there was the white dress, the
first kiss as husband and wife, Riviera Maya, Mexico and those silly monkeys at
our resort. Our first house, first
Christmas, the day we told our family we were expecting Abby, and the precious
baby pictures anniversaries, birthdays and vacations and it truly seems like yesterday I was holding
my first born and rocking her to sleep at night, I blinked and she is almost 8.
Where did 8 years go? To be honest looking back through the last 12 years, the
moments I have craved daily are the quiet moments but the ones I couldn’t live
without are the loud ones.
My silly son at 2 years old climbing up my bookshelf, "Look mama, I spiderman.", The silly youngest putting a bucket on his head and walking around bumping into everything and making us laugh, the sound of my “Mommy” name being spoken in 3 different voices and in various tones and at various times of the day, the squeals of Christmas morning delight and so many more. . . so I am retraining my thinking and re aligning my heart to long for the loud, lego bucket dumping, dinosaur roaring - super hero flying- ballet and dance music cranked loudly kinds of days because it’s not the quiet I really want more of. . . it’s the loud.
