A Quiet Heart: The Importance of Prioritizing Peaceful Practices in the Home.

It’s not quite 9 a.m. and the dishwasher is going, the laundry machine whirring in ritualistic harmony. I’ve worked out, written three emails, balanced the budget, changed two dirty diapers (of two different culprits), held an attitude adjustment session, conducted a short reading lesson, fed four hungry little birdie mouths, started dinner, written a few paragraphs of this blog post and yet still not made much of a dent in my to-do list. Such is the life of a mother.

A Quiet Heart: The Importance of Prioritizing Peaceful Practices in the Home.

There are times in the day when I achieve a thrill, a “high” if you will, off of back-to-back accomplishments, seamless multi-tasking, that moment when my juggling act reaches its peak with balls suspended mid-air, and I am super-woman, super-mom soaring untouched on my own strength, my goals, my ambitions, my vision. This flight may last seconds, minutes, hours, or, if I am stubborn enough, maybe even days.

Regardless of the length of the flight, however, the crash is inevitable. The balls drop, reality hits, the tremble of an anxious heart breaks through. My nerves are frazzled, my patience thin, and, once again, I am not enough for all who want me, need me. You’d think I’d learn, time after time after time. And yet, too frequently, this is what it takes to bring me back to the deep longing I have to be the voice of peace and calm in our home.

As I’ve shared before, I believe mothers hold a unique power. And, as the shepherd of my children, I believe it is not only my responsibility to shelter, nourish and grow their little bodies and sweet minds, but their tender souls, as well.

With four children five and under, my personality, the roles I play and the dynamics of these factors combined, it’s not an easy thing. We all have our challenges to practicing this peace. The practicalities of motherhood are very important, deadlines don’t disappear, tasks must be checked off. And yet, I can’t wait for stillness of surrounding to still my heart. I can’t wait on noiselessness to quiet my heart. My children will find the same in their lives. Upon discussing this with a wise woman years ahead of me in this journey of motherhood, she responded with a simple charge: prioritize a peaceful practice daily, and start young.

Thus, beginning in small but frequent increments, setting aside “quiet times” for our children and ourselves to sit is imperative to calming busy hands and flighty minds. And so, as young as my children start responding to simple instructions, we begin the training.

  • Beginning with one minute or less with a noisy timer signaling the end of the designated amount of time they are expected to sit quiet and in one place with a few books. I’ve found it simplest to begin the first quiet times on a soft sofa chair. The boundaries are clear, but it’s comfortable and at about fourteen months, I start with setting a timer for one minute. I don’t hover but say firmly, “Stay on the chair; it’s quiet time.” I also give my children one or two board books. If they throw the books, I say very firmly, “No, this is quiet time,” and return the books up to two times before removing that privilege but continuing the quiet time. If they get down, I intervene with redirection. The most essential thing is that the expectation doesn’t change despite how many times the child must be placed back on the chair, the redirection given or the consequences administered. Additionally, the younger our children begin this practice, the more normal it will seem.
  • As the routine develops, the amount of time gradually increases. The first week, I typically practice 2-3 times a day for one minute. One this is mastered, I increase the time by about thirty seconds. I offer books each time, but if they are thrown or otherwise rejected, they are still expected to sit quietly. When they hear the timer go off, I go to them and celebrate with lavish praise, joyful encouragement and sometimes an additional sweet treat.
  • Once the skill is developed, we still utilize this peaceful practice at least two or three times a day for twenty to thirty minutes at a time. I find it important to keep this practice routine in our home as too easily, it can become a forgotten skill if not regularly implemented.
  • At times, I might give a choice of quiet music in the background, a single silent toy or let them choose their own books or choose where they sit. Providing this variation helps them understand that this quiet time is different than a “time-out” but each of these options also serve as privileges earned through responsible obedience and cheerful attitudes.

I’ve watched my little ones blossom in this ability as the whining and complaining we inevitably worked through in the beginning has developed into something beautiful. My 6-year-old has found the joy of losing herself in the stories she’s reading. My 4-year-old can be heard whispering rhyming words to himself humming quiet preschool songs, my 2-year-old can be seen turning the pages of a book, pausing to contemplate the pictures. It’s not been without work, but I believe these moments are essential to the foundation of brilliant, independent imaginations. The process is certainly not one for the faint of heart as specific personalities take more readily to this practice, but the rewards are perhaps more impactful than any other life skill we can teach.

Academically, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, the ability to be still is not only rewarding but necessary. As we all know, the course of life does not pause. There have been many times where I’ve called upon my children to use this skill when we are out and about; a trip to the doctor once required an x-ray and my 18-month-old had to sit by himself on a chair outside the room until we finished. It was an amazingly freeing feeling to know I could trust him to stay quiet and safe in one spot for an extended amount of time. At home, many times I can catch up on a phone call, a counter clean, a meal prep, but often the greater reward is when I find my own seat with my journal and reading for the day, joining them in this practice of peace, when they can memorize me, legs tucked under and quilt wrapped round, books spread around me, feeling the calm that quiet brings.

Allison French
Allison French is the mother of Ellie, Tristan, Judah and Lucy, living in south Kansas City with her hubby of eight years, Chris. After teaching elementary school in Blue Valley for six years, she established her photography business, Allison Corrin Photography and specializes in newborn and lifestyle photography. Passionate about soaking up the sweetness in the simple, she muses over the dirty diapers, noisy time-outs, piled-up dishes, read alouds, never-ending pile of laundry, and other everyday lessons of motherhood in her personal blog here. A good day for Allison would include getting up while it’s still dark (and quiet), a good cup (or two…or three…) of creamed-up coffee, reading one of the (at least three) books she’s always in the middle of, a little blogging, followed by a long run or dancing at her Jazzercise class and concluded with baking something sweet with her own sweetums … and then promptly chowing down.