Pilgrim's Progress is definitely a journey...

The Noise

Theology in the Trenches

by Kathleen Kjolhaug

I didn’t know it would be this hard. In fact, I didn’t realize it was hard at all until…until I heard the noise.

The comings and goings, the ages and stages are natural progressions leading up to the empty nest. It’s been empty for quite some time now, but every so oft, in the quiet of night, there is noise…perhaps not much…but enough to remember.

A shuffle echoes delightfully into the corners of plastered walls from someone making their way to the stairway. Steps creak as feet patter upon them playing like the top ten from another era. Door quietly shutting out hallway light as bed is sought for rest acts as a reminder of days gone by.  For those “just passing through,” the farm provides shelter. Not even doggy perks as familiar noises play at odd hours.

Others are in the house is the tune played. Someone has come home because it is just that…home. Or perhaps word has gotten out that there is an empty bed or two or three at the country inn. And when I hear the noise, I fall into deep slumber as comfort is found from the reminiscent sound effects of days gone by.

As bacon and scrambled eggs find their way to the table top...a specialty made by the man of the house when his own come home…the scent wafts throughout. We inhale the likes of coffee, grandpa’s maple syrup, and deer sausage hunted last fall. The table of grace welcomes as it’s filled with those who contributed to the midnight noise at the farm.

As a new generation finds their way here, we are grateful. Grateful they can share in the making of memories and the making of noise as they peer through the windows of the farm…at the animals round and about. Cows, one horsey (their term), doggy, and kitty are welcome noise makers as squeals of delight pour forth when each one is spied. Knee high handprints stain windows and for the life of me, I cannot stoop that low to smear them off. I love them. They remind me of the noise which will hopefully return sooner than later.

Beds are made, country flies swept up from wooden planks, and pillows fluffed as the all too quiet farm awaits. Floorboards need a workout, and treetops which can only be seen from second story heights waive their crests calling for admirers to place themselves in perfect position to do just that…admire.

In the mean time He says…“Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). And, as I wait in the quiet, it is difficult. Being still does not come easy. Doer by trade, fixer as mama I am. The desire to make noise momentarily stills. It stills my heart and readies my soul for the next pilgrims passing through desiring respite along the journey. For the memories that clamor amidst the quiet, I am forever grateful.  Amen.