Once upon a time there was a quiet couple…two introverts. They lived in a quiet house, just the two of them. (And two cats.) They prayed for babies. None came. They prayed again. And then sometimes they didn’t because they got tired of feeling sad about it. Instead, they made music and wrote poetry and learned to love one other.

Then, after six years, God sent them a baby boy. He was tidy and scheduled and a quick learner. A few years later He sent them another boy, jolly and kind-hearted. He made his brother laugh and wrestle with him. Then, much to their surprise, God sent a third boy, soon after the second one. He was gentle and sensitive and smiled all the time, and sometimes he yelled to make himself heard above the din. The boys grew. And grew.

The quiet couple in the quiet house used to grow only boys. But then one day, God sent them a girl, to shake things up a bit. So they grew her too. Only she wasn’t like the boys, though they didn’t know that at first. She was noisier and more demanding, but they thought it must be their imagination. Expressing herself turned out to be her favorite thing, first with sounds, then babbling, then actual words, and then a steady stream of them.

I can easily forget that quiet couple in the midst of life, but this quiet place reminds me they are still there, with a need to reflect, examine, and explore what it all means. Sometimes I find humor in everyday life; sometimes poetry; sometimes poignancy. It’s all there, waiting to be noticed.