For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived a “loud” kind of life.

I love bright and bold and busy and constantly freight-train fast.

I love music sung in 15-passenger vans at decibel levels that have the drivers at the light next to me nodding their heads, and I love the electricity of a room packed out with people I love.

If our crazy, chaotic, constantly on-the-go military life could be played in song version, it would be one filled with drum sets and cymbals [definitely played by un-showered boys in no pants] and the melodies of a thousand screaming electric guitars.

Because in this house that is something like the OPPOSITE of tranquil, we all kind of like to live and love out loud (and the ones who don’t just haven’t yet learned the meaning of an “inside voice”).

But then came Covid.

And then came quarantine.

And then came the realization that maybe, just maybe, this loud life we’ve been living has been drowning out something much quieter.

Much calmer.

Much more important.

Like the still-small voice of JESUS.

What’s actually crazy is that it took a world pandemic to interrupt our jam session and get us to turn down the noise long enough to hear a song our sweet Savior has been playing all along.

The one that offers REAL Resurrection life instead of a cheap, loud cover of the real kind.