I feel like we have gone from 0-100 in seconds. Our lazy days of summer are officially over as our evenings fill with soccer practices. Our days fill with school and Bible Study and having an extra kid in the house. Our weekends fill with soccer games and family lunches and church events and hang out time with friends. And in the midst of all that somehow the house needs to be cleaned and laundry needs to be done and the yard that has been neglected all summer needs to be weeded and mulched and mowed.
Yet, I don't feel hurried.
I breathe deep in the morning. Sitting on the worn couch, the window open, the cool morning breeze coming through I curl my hands around my coffee mug and breathe deep and thank God for this moment, this day. I know that it will be enough. I know that what I have is enough. I know that I will give enough. And there is grace in what is left undone at the end of the day.
Hints of fall are all around. Apples and sweet potatoes appeared at the Farmer's market. The mornings are cool and we can actually open the windows before the day gets too warm. The evening light is mellow and golden.
I am craving organization. I want to clean and simplify and bring beauty and order. I want to paint the sunroom. I page through soup recipes in the hopes that this will be the year my kids will embrace the bowls of hearty warm food. I want to spend evenings outside around our fire pit roasting marshmallows and just being together. I want to plant mums and paint my front door red and curl up with a good book on the loveseat on the deck. I want to light candles and talk late into the night by their flickering light. I want to finish the hat I am knitting and move on to more. I want to take walks outside and watch the boys collect fallen leaves.
Despite my long wish list, I don't feel hurried.
Slowly, but surely I am learning that each moment is good. Each moment is grace. Each moment is enough.
Yet, I don't feel hurried.
I breathe deep in the morning. Sitting on the worn couch, the window open, the cool morning breeze coming through I curl my hands around my coffee mug and breathe deep and thank God for this moment, this day. I know that it will be enough. I know that what I have is enough. I know that I will give enough. And there is grace in what is left undone at the end of the day.
Hints of fall are all around. Apples and sweet potatoes appeared at the Farmer's market. The mornings are cool and we can actually open the windows before the day gets too warm. The evening light is mellow and golden.
I am craving organization. I want to clean and simplify and bring beauty and order. I want to paint the sunroom. I page through soup recipes in the hopes that this will be the year my kids will embrace the bowls of hearty warm food. I want to spend evenings outside around our fire pit roasting marshmallows and just being together. I want to plant mums and paint my front door red and curl up with a good book on the loveseat on the deck. I want to light candles and talk late into the night by their flickering light. I want to finish the hat I am knitting and move on to more. I want to take walks outside and watch the boys collect fallen leaves.
Despite my long wish list, I don't feel hurried.
Slowly, but surely I am learning that each moment is good. Each moment is grace. Each moment is enough.
1 comment:
This makes me happy. (Also, I made my first batch of the season of my favorite butternut chai soup, impatient for autumn to actually arrive...and was glad to find at lunch today that it makes a beautiful cold soup as well. Not QUITE insane enough to have hot soup for lunch yet.)
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