Sounds from an Air Vent

As I finished brushing my teeth and turned off the water, I heard the familiar sounds that often grace my ears this time of night. Our circa 1980 house has many quirks. As a circa 1982 human, I can definitely relate. Parts of us start working differently than they did before. The creak of my knees is now in sync with the creak of the stairs. I like to think we have a special bond. 

Now, these air vents may have always held this unique “charm”, age having nothing to do with it. But their resonant quality became apparent soon after we moved in several years ago. Sound traveling from room to room, as if involuntarily communicating through tin cans and string, has its inconvenient moments, to be sure. But in these particular moments, it was pure charm. 

It’s around 10:30. We tucked him in and said prayers together more than an hour ago. But yet he sings. 

“Oh, Your grace so free

Washes over me

You have made me new

Now life begins with You

It's your endless love

Pouring down on us

You have made us new

Now life begins with You”

The tinny acoustics that traveled from his bedroom to our bathroom could not downgrade the quality of his sweet, nearly pitch-perfect, 9-year-old voice. Every word of “Death Was Arrested”, that was clearly written on his heart, made its way through that vent straight to my heart.  

I placed my toothbrush back in the mason jar and watched my reflection immediately greet me with a huge smile. Man, I sure love that kid. The bulbs overhead even seemed to glow brighter. Then almost just as suddenly, I watched as my face fell.

There will be a time when I’m no longer serenaded as I brush my teeth. No more little boy songs will travel through the vents to our bathroom or closet. No more little girl giggles will make their way through the metal tunnels into our bedroom. This makeshift intercom system has an expiration date. My heart hurt at the thought.

Then, while staring at my freshly washed yet weary reflection, I heard other words. This time delivered right on my heart, not via air vent. 

I may not be daily listening to their voices in a few years but think of all those who will. Think of the songs he’ll be singing to his kids each night. Think of the stories she’ll be sharing with her family. Think about all the ways they could be using their voices someday in their circle, workplace, church, community, country, or world, as they lead, encourage, teach, disciple, advocate, and minister. 

I glanced up, smiled, and gave a little chuckle. And it was as if one of those vanity light bulbs lit up appropriately right over the top of my head. 

In this little bathroom of mine, I’m listening to a rehearsal. Within the walls of this quirky house, as well as church home and schoolhouse, is where he’s finding and developing his voice. And I get to be a part of it. What a privilege. What a responsibility. What a gentle reminder, resonating from an old air vent.

Song by North Point Worship.

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