The Simple Gospel

By: Brenda Wieneke

Motherhood is loud—until suddenly it isn’t.And when the noise fades, something else often rises to the surface.

“Mom, where is Dad?”

“Mom, where is Israel and Colette?”

“Mom, can you hold me?”

“Mom, could you wake Clement up?”

These are the words of my two-year-old as I walk around the house trying to distract myself. The house is quiet. The older kids are at school, and the baby is sleeping. As the noise of the busy morning fades, a deep sadness and emptiness settles in my heart.

In the quiet, I begin questioning everything—especially my motherhood. I wonder if what I do each day matters, if I am a good or capable mother. My mind drifts toward comparison. I think about other moms who work outside the home and wonder if they are happier or more fulfilled than I am.

I become so removed from the present moment that I don’t even notice my two-year-old standing in front of me, asking me to look at her, asking to be held.

When I finally meet her eyes, my heart softens. In that moment, I realize the Lord looks at me the same way. He is inviting me into His embrace. The quiet I want to escape is actually where the Lord wants to meet me.

In the quiet, His voice becomes clear. He calls His daughter to rest—to let Him delight in her, and to stop grasping for a life she believes will bring fulfillment or remove loneliness. Where I am right now is exactly where He wants to meet my heart.

As I watch my two-year-old wander around unsure of what to do, I see myself. I see a restless heart searching for something else, while my Father is calling me to rest in Him—to rest in His love, His delight, and the life He has already given me.

This is where He wants me. This is where I will make the greatest impact. If I surrender, He will meet me in the ordinary.

Quiet looks different for each person and in every season. As Jean-Pierre de Caussade writes, “There is a time when the soul lives in God, and a time when God lives in the soul.”

The Lord encounters each of us differently, through our own circumstances and seasons. For me, it is the loneliness I feel when my husband and children are away during the day. There is a unique invitation in that quiet if I am willing to receive it.

Our Mother Mary embraced the quiet. Rather than running from it, she welcomed it and allowed it to become a place of prayer. She  models how to remain faithful in hiddenness. 

As we learn to embrace the quiet of daily life, we give God permission to encounter us there. Like my two-year-old calling out to be held, we are invited to call out to our Father—to let Him look at us and hold us.

Quiet is often where Christ speaks most clearly to our hearts. Without distractions, our defenses fall away. We become children again, aware of our need for a Father and Savior.

Instead of running from quiet, let us run toward it. Our Father is already there, waiting to embrace His children.

Prayer

Lord,

I give You permission to invade the quiet spaces of my heart and my life.

Help me to run into Your arms and be held by You.

Help me to run toward the quiet, not away from it.

Encounter me in the quiet moments of my life.

Amen.