It was just a regular weekday. After a day at work, I head to the daycare to pick the little one up and bus straight home. Typically we would have Netflix or some random playlist on Spotify as our background noise to fill our home. But once we arrived home I heard a whisper ..”quiet”. So I listened; I kept the house – quote, unquote – quiet.

No Netflix.

No music.

Nothing whatsoever.

I started to hear the pitter-pattering of Olivia’s feet running back and forth. The running sink water as I soak the dirty dishes that I have no intentions of cleaning. The whooshing and honking of cars passing by twenty two levels below us. The air conditioning rumbling on and off letting us know how cool he is. (Pun intended)

What is happening? This isn’t “quiet”.

As I set Olivia’s after-school snack on the table, you can hear the silver fork tap against the plastic plate as she struggles to get the rice. The legs of Olivia’s chair squeaking as she sways left and right out of joy from every bite. And then, there’s me. The me with the mind on blast. Thoughts that started off as a To-Do list began growing as I watered it with my attention. Boy, did it grow. Better get my pencil and notebook. Click, click. There goes my led pencil. A broken, yet continuous shushing of led as it paints on paper during my writing rampage. I know this feeling. It’s anxiety. It’s fear. It’s scattered puzzle pieces of my peace. It’s less and less of …me.

Is this silence?

My body started closing in leaning closer to the dining table with my left hand massaging my forehead. My body was screaming anxiety.

I wrote, “I know this feeling. I just need to get out more. I need to pray more. I need to eat better. I need to see my family more. I need to express my feelings more. I need …”


I look up and see Olivia smiling with rice in between her teeth, pointing at my left wrist where I’ve tattooed a Cross. What? How? I wasn’t even talking out loud yet she was able to say the exact word that I needed to hear at the perfect moment.

“I need Jesus”

I was in awe. It was beyond words, really.

Then finally, quiet.

I know I won’t have true peace and quiet all the time and the search will never end or get any easier. We’re human. Anything that feels uncomfortable, we mask with reruns of the same shows on Netflix or intoxicating our mind and body or just about anything that keeps the noise to stay.  We numb. But when we see pass silence as a monster; one that exposes you to the hidden fear of emptiness or whatever it may be, silence is actually the You that wants to be heard but was buried deep underneath worldly weight. Regardless of what you think silence is or isn’t, silence is there. Always. It’s there for you to embrace. It’s there for you to feel.

Through the silence, I sincerely hope you find more of you.

Just listen.

With you always,

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