I come from a house of noise.
I live in a room of silence.
I find it interesting how the idea of nature versus nurture plays out in my life. I recently returned home to sunny Southern California for a week long vacation. It was awesome, though exhausting at times.
Walking into my parent’s house is like walking into a sport’s bar with different events happening all at once. Each room has its own television playing something different, and if they are on the same channel then there is a delay and it causes the most annoying echo throughout the house. My dad will have the radio on in the garage and also in his truck blasting. My brother will have the radio on his phone playing in his bedroom. It amazes me how much sound is in my house. They all sleep with the television on too. And this not only plays out in the media radiating throughout the home, but also in the loud conversations we have. The yelling through hallways and bedrooms. No one ever thought to turn off the noise to listen to someone speak — just speak over it! Noise has been a constant in my house ever since I could remember.
Then I moved out on my own, and as an introvert, I found comfort in the silence that I never knew before. Take last night for example, from 9 p.m. to midnight I laid in bed reading in silence, well other than the haphazard bowling party my neighbor’s were having upstairs. I couldn’t help but laugh at the contrast of my nature of silence verses the nurture of my family’s noise.
In the quiet I can breathe. In the quiet I can listen to what is going on in my head and in my heart. In the quiet God speaks. In the quiet I can hear the inconsequential sounds of a house at rest. In the quiet I am at peace.