Normally, I make a very good attempt at holding on to each falling golden leaf when October and November come with all their glory. I treasure and slow down each sway of my porch swing beneath a maple tree and the vision of children running around through grass, more free than they’ll be for months. This year threw me a bit off my game. Did you know that three children are A LOT more than two? I didn’t know that…until the third child began walking and talking and being human. I let it get busy and full. If you let your guard up for even just a second, you’ll look up and realize a whole month has up and passed you by. Sometimes, it’s even an entire year.
The beauty of homeschooling is that at least when they’re little, you can make your fall break as long as you want depending on their workload. So, November has been tamed a tiny bit. The chaos of busy and noise of crazy that we’ve lived in for months has been paused this week to listen to the sounds of November. I know you, November. Your promise of holidays so close I can feel them leave us usually wishing you’ll speed up and bring us your end goodness. So, the beat goes on. The rhythm of our home bends and sways to the music of Tchaikovsky as two little ballerinas request Swan Lake, and this year a third ballerina has joined. This rhythm twirls and spins, and then settles down to a quiet of nap time and a slow swaying candle light. It sounds like a hundred questions of “what’s that?” or “why?” that makes me feel like I could lock myself in my bedroom if my door only had a lock, and then slips down slowly and sounds more like “I love you, let me help you, you’re my favorite sister.”
My very favorite part of the rhythm is the constant up and down sounds and sights that reminds me all the more that I can’t predict it. I don’t know. I can not tell you when the highs and lows will come, I only know they will. The calm lows refresh my spirit and energize me like nothing else can. But before I can focus too much on that and begin feeling like I know things, someone screams about a toy and a chaotic high will humble me with the knowledge that I don’t know how long those green grapes have been under my couch cushions.
There is a lot of joy to be found in accepting that you don’t know everything. Even more to be found in accepting that you pretty much don’t know anything. Learning to roll with it and turn loose of control causes the stress and responsibility of it all to slip off your shoulders. The rhythm of my home is one that He has purposely composed. My own composition sounds more like a mess and raised voices, tension and bad attitudes. I know, because I take over too often. It doesn’t mean that my home always looks calm, or that my dishes are not currently filling my sink. It means that in the midst of dirty dishes, chaos, and childish temper tantrums (some from my children, the rest from me), what I hear in my heart doesn’t have to be hear through my ears. I’m so thankful to God for so many things this November, but today, I’m mostly thankful for the Holy Spirit and His ability to transpose the noise that comes into our head into music before it hits our heart when we allow it. What’s your rhythm sound like? Who is the composer? You are a masterpiece, you know. A great poem created to show His great Glory. Let him transpose that chaos that you see as mess into evidence of life lived, and rumble of never ending noise as a symphony of memories being made.