Stomp…stomp…thud.
Ah, yes. The soundtrack of apartment living. Particularly when one is on the bottom floor of a multi-floor complex.
We’ve been living in an apartment now for about four months as we build a house. Well, actually we’re not building the house—we’re having it built—which could be why it isn’t finished yet. If I had a hammer in my hand, I might not know what I’m doing, but I’d be doing it fast and furious because I am highly motivated to get out of this apartment and into my new, QUIET house.
As soon as we moved into this apartment, we began to notice loud, sporadic stomps and thuds coming from above. It sounded like somebody was vaulting off the faux-quartz countertops and then breaking into some serious Riverdance moves.
Must be a kid living up there, we guessed. Or an adult in serious need of medication.
Turned out it was a child, not a gymnast or Celtic dancer, and we dubbed the rambunctious tyke “Stomp.” I caught a fleeting glimpse of little Stomp one time in the parking lot as he was walking with his mother up the stairs to the apartment directly above my head. Actually, he wasn’t walking, he was running and bouncing, because as we would come to learn, Stomp’s transmission apparently has only two gears: “asleep” and “wide open.”
Although I certainly understand the need for boys to romp and frolic, I have to say I was relieved when Stomp and his parents decided to move out.
“My son has a lot of energy. We need a place where he can run,” his father told my husband. Indeed.
For a short, blissful time, the apartment overhead was empty and quiet. But the peace was not to last. A couple of weeks ago, college students began moving into our complex for the fall semester.
Girl college students and big, noisy, boy college students. When I first spotted our new, overhead boy-student neighbors, they were galloping up the stairs and cavorting through their apartment door like Labrador retriever pups.
That same night, thuds and stomps woke me up and I thought, “Such industrious young men, getting up early with the rest of the working world.” But a sleepy glance at the clock revealed that no, it was not morning—it was, in fact, the middle of the dadgummed night and these guys were just going to bed.
Whew, I’m too old for dorm life.
Millions of people in this world are homeless or living in dire poverty, enjoying none of the luxuries I enjoy in this apartment, and yet, here I am complaining. Wanting only to get out of this place and into my house.
I do try to be thankful for the countless blessings I enjoy, and repentant about whining and complaining, but I think this desire to escape, this “wanting out,” runs deeper than just a noisy apartment.
Watching the news nearly always fills me with an overwhelming desire to escape from the craziness of this world. Not that I want to prematurely check out, but I do long for the eternal, perfect home Jesus said He is preparing for those believe in Him.
Honestly, I’m surprised God hasn’t already brought the curtain down on this world. If I saw what He sees every day, I’d surely wad up this world like a bad drawing and start over. But God patiently waits for just the right time.
What is He waiting for? Or maybe, who is He waiting for?
Could it be you?
“The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.”—2 Peter 3:9