Dear God,
Thank you for the sighing sound that wind makes in trees at night. Thank you for the sound of children plinking and plunking on piano keys. Thanks for the sound of wind chimes. Thank you for the noise of voices when friends are together.
Thanks for the thrumming sound of cicadas in summer heat. Thanks for the songs of tree frogs in a rainy spring time. Thanks for the voice of someone who has been away returning through my back door. Thank you for the patter of rain on the roof. Thanks for children’s voices.
Thank you for the majestic swell of orchestra music. Thanks for the soft strumming of guitar, the sweet trill of flute, the staccato beat of drums. Thank you for the tick of my clock, for the sound of a friend knocking, a phone ringing, my mother calling my name.
Thanks for children’s voices singing in Christmas programs, for the note of happiness in Grandma’s voice, for the crack of a voice steeped in emotion. Thanks for songs of birds in the trees outside my window. Thanks for the sound of cows mooing on your hills, of cat’s purring, of horses’s neighing, and dog’s barking.
Thanks for the crackling of a fire in the woodstove on a cold winter’s morning. Thank you for the swish of a fan on a warm day and the steady purr of an air conditioner on a hot August noon.
Thanks for the melodic sound of water flowing over rocks in a stream. The splash of water where kids are swimming, the lap of water on the lake shore, the roar of ocean breakers. Thanks for wind in pine trees and the rustle of a breeze in the cottonwoods.
Thanks for the whir of a sewing machine, the burrrr of my mixer, the hum of insects in the garden. Thanks for the sizzling sound of meat cooking, the chopping chip of vegetables being cut up, the ruffling sound of book’s pages being turned.
Thanks for the sounds of each day. Thanks for music and voices and whistlings. Thanks for rhythms and rhymes, for cadence and melody. Thanks for birdsong, trumpet blasts, bells ringing, for trains in the night, and the sound of an “I love you” from my husband, my teenager, my grandchild, or my friend.
Thank you, Lord, for your voice. Not in the storm, not in the crashing of war, not in the roiling sea, but the still small voice you speak to me with. Thank you.
Love you, Elece
What’s Good About Home! 
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