Mrs Noah was a woman. Women like to know what we’re up against. We like to schedule and plan and figure things out. Now that she knew what was coming, Mrs wanted to know what her new home was going to look like, because she wanted her nest to reflect her. She wanted her home, for however long it was going to be her home, to be efficient and comfortable.
She watched it go up. Every night, four adult men, working all day on the same project, came to dinner and talked about the days’ work. Suppose one night Ham came in and said, “We could have gotten that side done today except Shem doesn’t know how to measure. He cut everything too short.”
Mrs thought quickly. “Noah, do you think you could make a coffee table out of that wood Shem messed up?” Well, Noah, surrounded by men and therefore not in his right min, tired from the labor and the bickering and the sun, responded, “Are you serious? That wood is going to be used for the aardvark cages. We don’t need a coffee table, wife.”
Then Noah may have heard the words that still, thousands of years later, have the power to make men cringe.
His wife, embarrassed and hurt, softly spoke. “Well, fine.”
Suddenly the dinner sounds stopped. Silverware doesn’t clatter. Dishes are still. Glasses don’t make sound as they are placed back on the table. The daughters-in-law are looking at their husbands wide-eyed. Noah’s sons are holding their breath. In the silence, Noah had a sudden premonition and an idea. Maybe there should be twin beds in the ark.
*****
Maybe Mrs didn’t react that way. Maybe she took the time to think, unlike me sometimes, before she spoke. Maybe she thought of Noah spending the entire day with no escape from his task, or his sons’ bickering, and maybe she realized Noah needed time to wind down before she made any requests. Maybe she took the time to remember Noah’s goodness, his dedication to his family and the task set before him. And maybe Mrs kept silent and determination set in to ask him later, in private, without putting him on the spot.
Maybe Mrs counted to ten and was then able to react outside her disappointment and hurt. We don’t always do that well. At least, I don’t always do that well. Then I say things that really need to be unsaid, but as my husband used to say, “How do you unring a bell?”
At those times, the result is increased hurt, added to remorse, and a nearly one hundred percent result of increased, prolonged tensions.
Sometimes, at least for a few deep breaths work of time, we need to keep silent. God is honored when we show grace to our mates, and our relationships are not battered in the process of doing so.
Tomorrow…”How’d WE get so lucky?”
For His Glory 