Before babies the sound of music filled my home, my car and my life. I would lift my voice and sing along in praise to my God, testifying of His presence, power and love. But then my world turned upside down with babies, lack of sleep and constant activity. My brain switched to overload and, like a computer freezes when too many pages are open, so my head would become overloaded and have to shut down. I listened to music less and less.
I still love music, especially worship and praise. However, the need and appreciation of silence has grown stronger as I get older.
I envy those who have their music blaring loudly as they clean house and drive, whose brains can handle non-stop noise and activity. My theory is that it has something to do with the plague of migraines that descended twenty-five years ago and have yet to be removed. My brain doesn't work like others.
Yet, the sound of silence is like no other. If music were playing I would not hear the birds outside my kitchen window, the gentle movement of the grass as my tortoises search for food, the rustling of the wind in the trees and the buzz of insects. Sometimes I even hear the wind as it blows through the windows, lifting the curtains to dance with it's own rhythmic music.
When life is silent, the leaves are greener, the water clearer and the texture of the bark on trees richer. In the silence, I hear creation testify of God's goodness and power.
I am a new creation and in the silence, I hear God's voice as He molds me and prepares me to return to the noise of the world so that I, too, can testify of His love and mercy.
If I open my ears, God can be heard in the silence. And sometimes that silence is so loud and joyous that I hear the sound of music.