Noise

Do you ever find yourself in a place where all of the usual noise has been removed, and you suddenly find that some part of you had been at tension the whole time, and you hadn't even realized it until the noise was gone? Like the washing machine with its droning, and finally it stops and you just feel like something inside of you was set free? Maybe it's just me.
I think with the usual noise around me, I find those rare silent moments so amazing, and there's some part of me that just breaks out dancing when I'm surrounded by silence. It's so rare, so very rare. Even now, with the baby sleeping and the older girls palying quietly upstairs, it's loud. The washer's running, the furnace. The occasional baby doll shouts something, one of the kids is listening to an audio drama. It's loud, even though it's quiet.
Over Easter when I took a break from media and distractions, I found myself surrounded by other distractions. I don't really even kmnow what they were, but it was hard to sit and meditate like I'd planned. It was disappointing, really. I had thought I would learn all of these new things about God, and that He'd honor my sacrifice and reveal Himself to me, and I'd have time to write poetry and read verses and... well, it just didn't happen. And I don't know if it was me and all of my sin or if it was just life and that's how it is, or if maybe I learned and saw more than I even thought I did. Whatever the case, I still long for that silence that seems impossible right now.
I feel it creep over me all the time, driving in the car without kids, when the radio's on with music I like, but all I want to do is shut it off. Talking with friends whose company I really enjoy, I just wish we could communicate without talking. I long for it, for quiet, amidst the errands, the bills, the TV shows, the Veggie Tales playing, the siblings arguing, the husband telling me about his day, the laundry machines, the rain and wind outside, the lessons of life and the piles of things shouting for me to take care of them. I want it to be silent. I want peace to reign.
That's really what it is. The noise wouldn't be so irritating if I were resting in peace like I should be, like my soul wants to be.
Today the baby was crying like usual because she needed a nap. And I wanted so badly to make it silent for her so that she could relax and fall asleep. Just for ten minutes. It wouldn't happen, and the more I tried, the more upset she (and I) got. Eventually I went into her room and turned on this little music bear that plays white noise or music for 20 minutes. I hung it next to her in bed, and waited while she sucked on her pacifier. She let out one of those little baby sighs, like she was saying, "Everything's finally OK now", and closed her eyes. The music from her bear, replaying itself over and over, took her into dreamland. And when I went downstairs to sit and relax for a second, I thought about that constant noise, and how there's realy no way to drown it out right now. At least not physically.
But all of the voices in my heart that scream at me and tell me to get this done and stop doing that, and make the deadlines and accomplish whatever--those I can drown out. I can squelch them. I can tune into one thing, singing louder than the rest of those voices. Just like little Lois and the bear. I can listen for the voice of God, and if I'm listening like I should, the other voices get quieter and quieter and eventually, peace reigns.