My wish for my kids would be that for just one Christmas they could experience what God blessed me with for a dozen-plus Christmases.  I was the youngest in our family and was robbed of more of the years together than my siblings and cousins, but boy was I blessed.

When you have 11 people cohabitating in a little green house of about eight hundred square feet, you do things in coordination.  The meals happen together.  Games happen together.  Discussions, singing, storytelling, ‘washing up,’ happened together.  There had to be coordinated effort because space was tight and the commitment to getting along outweighed personal agendas.  How can I best describe this?  Wonderful.

As I think back, I marvel at the things we did that were just normal and natural.  There was no shower or inside bathroom, so we heated water on the potbelly stove and washed up (the term used), hitting critical spots with a washcloth and then hair washed by hanging our heads over the sink while someone poured.  In the early years, water came from a well outside.  Eleven of us!  Trudging to the outhouse an adventure for this little boy and normal because of where we were.

I recall a lot of laughter.  Interesting isn’t it that with convenience, laughter seems to have been replaced with impatience and frustration?  I just don’t ever remember statements like ‘road rage’ or ‘losing it’ and when you heard the term ridiculous, it was because of a behavior that did not contribute in ways that caused all to be better.  What happened?  When did inconvenience replace joy?  Moving on.

I was up early this morning and listened to the hiss of an air return and the convenient sound of heated air blowing through vents.  I put AirPods in for the convenience of listening to Christmas music.  I heard the sound of water being released for the convenience of ready-made ice.  After a couple of cups of coffee, I conveniently said sayonara through indoor plumbing.  So much convenience.  So much noise.  So much absence.

You see the collaboration of those Crooked Creek Christmases even involved going to sleep at the same time.  There was no TV to watch.  There were no hand held computers, aka phones to distract.  The very concept of ‘personal space’ would have yielded howls of laughter and reprimand for not recognizing the beauty of those present amongst us.  The choice was talk, laugh, play board games, snack (and boy did we snack on homemade goodies), listen, read comic books that we had read 100X and ultimately, collectively go to sleep.

This has been a long staging for what I wanted to share.  The beauty of the breathing that could be heard through that little green house.  The periodic sound of one of our beloved group landing on their back and snoring.  It was so quiet in papaw and mamaw’s house in that little holler, that you really could hear the breathing of those sleeping all around you.  I guess I have never felt a warmth that comes from being surrounded by family like I did in those Christmas nights.  I’ve never been a good sleeper and have always awakened often during the night.  The sounds of the breathing of loved ones sleeping always able to sooth me and send me back to sleep.

Six of the 11 are gone now.  All 6 in the timeless and eternal glory of Heaven.  The five left now 23 and counting.  The legacy now stretching to four following generations.  Good people, the generations following.  Good people living good lives, sewing good seeds, navigating different circumstances and spread far and wide.  The two remaining variables in the equation of those quiet Crooked Creek nights, Jesus and love.  The faith and love sewn in those early years now sewn through those rambunctious kids to their kids and grandkids.  Mamaw and Papaw, moms and dads, aunts and uncles and kids; now Mimi’s and Poppas and moms and dads, aunts and uncles, brothers and sister and grandkids.  The circle keeps growing and the size ever expanding.  Marvelous.

So I miss those noisy nights filled with the quiet sounds of soft breathing from the sources of love given to me by a loving Father in Heaven.  But most of all, I thank God for the noise that he has surrounded my life with.  Megan, Benton, Malia, Kensley and so, so, so many others as the next replaced the past.

“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.”  Psalm 62:5 (ESV)

Enjoy the quiet of this noisy Season.  “Sleep in Heavenly peace.”