I tried earplugs, headphones and pillows over my head. Nothing blocked out the rock music blasting from the stereo next door. No one could persuade the teenagers who were there most of the time to turn it down. And their parents were rarely home.
My husband, Jim, was starting a second career in education, and we had cashed in our pension plan, sold our wedding china, and moved our three children—including an infant—into a smaller home. Exhausted from unpacking and midnight feedings, I needed some quiet time. But I couldn’t escape 100 decibels of loud rock music.
At my wit’s end, I searched the house for a soundproof room. Then I remembered Jesus advice in Matthew 6:6: enter your closet and pray. The walk-in near our bedroom was perfect. Hanging clothes muffled the offending noise, and the older children watched the baby while I curled up with a pillow to pray and rest.
Yes, there were times I wanted God to cut off the electricity next door. But more and more I was able to find the peace I needed to focus on other matters. Lord, please help my husband find the right teaching position, I prayed. And help me be more understanding toward my neighbors. They may be facing difficulties too.
Years later when the neighborhood was blessedly quiet and Jim a successful teacher, the young mother of his favorite pupil admitted she had been one of the uncooperative teens from next door. “I’m so sorry,” she said. At the time she had been trying to deal with her parents divorce and a brother’s death. Jim quickly accepted her apology. We had packed away our anger in the prayer closet ages ago.
