I can sleep through snoring.
Not only can I sleep through snoring but I can fall asleep to snoring. I might even go as far as saying that it actually puts me to sleep.

I don't really know what it is but it seems like any kind of steadiness can make even the harshest sounds or images transient and peaceful. In the same way, I think that even the most thrilling or exciting things can potentially become dull in the perception of them. If you go to a hockey game where it seems like the puck is just kind of hanging around the middle of the ice for a while and then all of a sudden there's a crazy breakaway, you'll pay attention no matter what it was that you were playing on your phone before. All of a sudden, the crowds stand up and there is this sense of excitement in the anticipation of what's happening.

I love that.

I'm such a sucker for things that pop like a pop of color in an otherwise bleakly hued room, or a stream of rays through a break in the clouds, or a moment in a song where there's only voices. Sometimes those pops are so much more satisfying than a stream of greatness. Too much of a good thing can sometimes be numbing.

In a similar sense, I'm a sucker for newness. I love moving into a new room, getting new clothes or makeup (or toothbrushes... best), and new music in my iPod. But that extends into stuff that gets more serious - new friendships, churches, community, relationships, jobs, geographical location. The old gets, well... old. One of my greatest regrets of who I am is that thing in me that makes my perception of precious things bland because they are no longer new. I use to think it was boredom but I've recently decided it's not really boredom. I need to stop saying that. I'm not bored of my friends or my relationships or my jobs just because they are maybe less "new" than they were. I think it's just that they have such a steadiness to them that I fail to recognize their beauty. This is especially true when my initial impression of them was a heart-stopping, agenda-changing, do-a-180 (not a 360) kind of impression. I get so high and I thrive too much off of that highness rather than stopping and taking a hot minute to realize the beauty of what's around me.

It's not boredom - it's white noise. It's that I fail to remember the beauty that first found me so fond. I am, by nature, a person that thrives off of excitement. So I don't think that has to be a bad thing. It only becomes bad when I fail to remind myself how exciting it all really is and to bring myself back to that place that gave me those butterflies. I think it's a choice. It's a discipline.

White-noise doesn't have to have such a negative connotation in my life. White-noise can mean that I am at peace. If I chose to view it well, I can pick away at the new things that come into my life amidst a backdrop of artistry and a sustained surrounding of matured and aged blessings. It's a choice of reminding.

Talking today at church about having ears to hear, I realized that for me, it's a matter of tuning in. It's the difference between looking for the new as a way of replacing the awesome that's before me, instead of appreciating the new as it comes while finding that contentment is really about taking note of the environment. The noise is there, and you can hear it, but you might just not really be listening that closely. I've been finding that when I do, I don't need to find new and that I can recognize it as novelty. I think it's possible to have both a sense of novelty in my life while embracing a continual and sustained experience of peace that goes beyond the mountain-top-experiences.


  1. Making what appears old to be new just by changing perspective....very insightful Rena. "Old things are passed away behold all things become as new.."

  2. I love new toothbrushes so much!