Psalm 127:3
“Children are a gift from God, they are His reward.”

I’ve noticed there is music in my kitchen and if I’m not careful, I seem to loose my ability to hear it as I busily go about my day. I can still remember the music in my Grandma’s kitchen. The blending of laughter with the tapping of silver spoons on fine china. Grandma loved having guests, and we loved to enjoy the “music” in her kitchen.

There wasn’t always music in my kitchen. Everything had its place and never seemed to be moved. My plates were even neatly stacked by color, and my decorations were never found on the floor in different places in our home. Now sometimes I wonder how many times I will be picking up the fifty Tupperware lids that my daughter loves to spread across the kitchen floor. It doesn’t matter how many toys may be around the house, it’s the Tupperware pots and pans that interest her the most. So my kitchen floor is always being redecorated for me, which is accompanied by the rhythm of soft chubby little palms slapping against the floor, or pot lids being used as cymbals.

My grandma now lives in a nursing home in California. I often visit her in my mind, as I’m unable to visit now. I think of her sitting in a peaceful room that is filled with quiet. All of her treasured items are neatly packed away, or carefully set on the furniture around her. Nothing is out of place, and the stillness must be all consuming. Does she know that the music she taught is now repeated in my home? I wonder if she still is able to hear the echoes in her mind of the music from her kitchen.

There is time for quiet, there is time for perfect order. I want to always hold on to the ability to not only hear the music in my kitchen, but to celebrate in it. I hope these precious days fill my mind and heart, and will last through eternity.