The Squeak

There has been a lot of furniture shifting in our home.
My son and his wife, who were married last year, now have a house.
My son brought his bedroom set to their house for a spare bedroom.
That left the room that my boys shared growing up very empty.

A comfy chair is still tucked in the corner.
A desk that belonged to my mother is still in the room.
The bed is gone.
The chest of drawers and tall bookcase are gone.

The names of both of my boys are still carved in the windowsill the way they left it.
The closet is empty except for a fold-away cot for extra guests.
Every breath that was breathed, every word that was spoken, is still somewhere in that room.
Or so it seems to my mother’s heart.

My oldest son, who lives in DC, still has his bedroom set here.
That furniture went into the room that my two oldest daughters used to share.
I am sure that one day he will take that bedroom set to furnish a spare bedroom.
Until then, it is here for when he comes home.

It was time to replace the rugs in those bedrooms.
We ordered them about a month ago and a date was scheduled for them to be installed.
It was easy for the men to do the empty room first.
They brought my son’s furniture back to his old room, and installed the rugs in the other room.

My husband took the day off since he wanted to be here when the rugs were installed.
He also wanted to fix the squeak.
It was a squeak that grew louder over the years.
It was a squeak that you heard as you stepped inside the bedroom.

My husband intended to screw the sub-floor down tightly over the area of the squeak.
He waited until the men pulled up the old rugs.
Then he went to work.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, I heard the drill he used to make sure the screws were tight.

I was cooking and baking quite a bit that morning and never went upstairs.
I knew that if the men had any questions, they could ask my husband.
After the rugs were installed, the men left with bottled water and some of my brownies.
It was then my husband took out his phone.

I have a video to show you, he said.
I could not imagine what he would want to show me right at that minute.
I just sent it to you, he said as I heard my phone ding.
I thought you were going to show me, I said as he turned his phone sideways.

I saw one of the windows in my boys’ old room.
I saw my husband’s shoe on the floor.
Then I heard it.
He stepped on the squeak, over and over, and took a video.

Anyone else, who does not understand, would say that was a strange thing to do.
Actually, to me, it was very sweet.
He wanted to make sure he captured that memory for me.
He wanted to make sure the squeak would not be forgotten.

That was the squeak I heard every morning as I made breakfast.
It told me that my boys were awake and up for the day.
That was the squeak I heard whenever they entered or left their room.
I admit there were times I found the squeak quite annoying.

However, when the squeak was silent, I realized how special it really was to me.
Somehow, without ever verbalizing that, my husband knew.
The squeak is now fixed when you step into the room.
I now have a video, with sound, that can bring me back to another time.

I sent the short video to my children and their spouses as well.

Dad took a video of the famous squeak. I used to hear that every morning when K and B woke up and went into the hallway. Dad fixed it. The squeak is no more. However it lives on here! I’m sure it will live on in some random family text for years to come!

My oldest son responded.

The squeak started after I dunked over B too much on the mini basketball net.

I laughed and wrote back.

I’m sure B will have a different version of that story!

I had forgotten about the mini basketball net.
It was hung over the back of their bedroom door.
They played basketball with a soft Nerf ball.
I could hear them keep score and debate about a shot being fair.

I had forgotten.

Every breath.
Every word that was ever spoken.
Every squeak.
Still lingered in that room.

The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less. (John 3:29,30)

In Jesus’ time, brides could be stolen.
The friend who attended the bridegroom was much like the best man.
That friend of the bridegroom was called a shoshabin.
The shoshabin brought the bride to the bridal chamber and stood guard outside the door.

The shoshabin waited until he heard the voice of the bridegroom coming to get his bride.
When he heard the bridegroom’s voice, the shoshabin knew the bride was safe.
He knew his job as was finished.
The bridegroom had come for his bride.

One day, our Bridegroom will come back to get His Bride.
We wait until we hear the sound of His voice.
We will know His voice because we are His sheep and He is our Shepherd.
We are His Bride and we know that He is coming back to bring us Home with Him.

Listening for a certain sound is so important.
It can bring back all sorts of memories.
Especially if it is a sound we know so well.
One day, we will recognize the sound of His voice as He calls us Home.

And we will be glad.