At the end of the day
In the distance the train lumbers along the steel beams. The hum of cars roll like waves along the highway. I hear all the activity in the stillness. My suburban home is constantly surrounded by the steady noise of the to-and-fro and I live barely noticing. The tree leaves no longer shelter me from the incessant noise in these winter months but my life does shelter me. You see, I have made the noise in my life that of children, music, kittens jumping and leaping, and the baritone voice of my husband. That is my noise. It's only when I am alone that the silence of my noise reveals all the rest surrounding me.
I am choosing to define my life as something quite different than the woman who spends the day inside the four walls of her "close to the highway and very messy" home, doing dishes, laundry, listening to the overly loud voices of two boys who often like to argue. No. That is not how I want to interpret my days. I want to choose to see all the glory that is in each fleeting day.
I love the anchors of the day - the slow mornings of cooking breakfast then sitting around the table and communing with my family. The unloading of a dishwasher, gloriously clean. The checking on laundry and an excuse to catch a smile from my husband as he works right there, just across from that well used washer. The reading of books that inspire young souls. Our kids growing here like trees bearing the weight of eternal words. Catching the wonder of a snowflake, or laughing at the kids making dens for the kittens, or watching the primrose open itself into fullness of glory. This, this right here, is my life. All these crazily heaped together moments - moment upon moment and it takes me writing it to really see it clearly.
Isn't life all about loving what we have been given by grace?
"We love because He first loved us" 1 John 4:19
I saw this verse as loving people, and surely that is at the heart of this verse, but could it not include things - moments? Purring kittens? Crimson blooms? Snowflakes caught on tongues? This loving is gratitude of a heart - a heart that wants to overflow with thanks for those things which I can't obtain by my own striving. Those things which are gifts.
I want to learn the language of love that's been written so plain - who could not see it. Beauty Himself comes to us all the time, this breathing, wildly alive man who speaks and it becomes, who stuns us with Himself through all that He has made. He was. He is. He always will be.
I am choosing to define my life as something quite different than the woman who spends the day inside the four walls of her "close to the highway and very messy" home, doing dishes, laundry, listening to the overly loud voices of two boys who often like to argue. No. That is not how I want to interpret my days. I want to choose to see all the glory that is in each fleeting day.
I love the anchors of the day - the slow mornings of cooking breakfast then sitting around the table and communing with my family. The unloading of a dishwasher, gloriously clean. The checking on laundry and an excuse to catch a smile from my husband as he works right there, just across from that well used washer. The reading of books that inspire young souls. Our kids growing here like trees bearing the weight of eternal words. Catching the wonder of a snowflake, or laughing at the kids making dens for the kittens, or watching the primrose open itself into fullness of glory. This, this right here, is my life. All these crazily heaped together moments - moment upon moment and it takes me writing it to really see it clearly.
Isn't life all about loving what we have been given by grace?
"We love because He first loved us" 1 John 4:19
I saw this verse as loving people, and surely that is at the heart of this verse, but could it not include things - moments? Purring kittens? Crimson blooms? Snowflakes caught on tongues? This loving is gratitude of a heart - a heart that wants to overflow with thanks for those things which I can't obtain by my own striving. Those things which are gifts.
I want to learn the language of love that's been written so plain - who could not see it. Beauty Himself comes to us all the time, this breathing, wildly alive man who speaks and it becomes, who stuns us with Himself through all that He has made. He was. He is. He always will be.
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