Quiet

It's been rainy here and quiet.  Without Braeden's booming laugh and him crashing around the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher every day, it's quiet.

Emma swung by yesterday afternoon because she forgot a few books.  She's happy.  She likes her new classes and pointed to each book fondly and told me she had some reading to do.  "I'll have more reading this semester," she said with a smile.

My girl loves reading.

Last night Adam was refereeing basketball games and Mark and I both had headaches.  He was in the basement and I was upstairs in my room and it was quiet.

Quiet leads to thinking.

Yesterday I read by C.S. Lewis:

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. 

Sunday I was at a meeting where I heard things I didn't know about people.  It was one of those raw conversations where you find out hard things people are facing that only makes you love them more.  The more you get to know people you realize the person who seems to live a charmed life has big struggles too.  You realize the person you thought was perfect is anything but.

We aren't ordinary people.  We are at once striving to hold up under our burdens and also vessels of great potential.

Thinking.  It's what happens when it's quiet and rainy around here.