I’m surrounded by bookshelves, and my phone’s streaming Mumford and Sons, and the sun is shining, and I’ve been lost in my own head and heart for the last few hours.
That’s not always a good place for a mortal to hole up in, but when you’re living outside yourself, denying yourself all the hours of all the days, a moment of introspective remembering is healthy and it makes me dream dreams again.
After two weeks of travel on his end, my husband gifted me a Thursday filled with freedom and wonder and words and me. Just freedom and wonder and words and me and the subsequent gratefulness that comes from such things.
The day has included finding Katie again. Sometimes we have to dig through and pull ourselves up to the surface for air and daylight.
I had lunch alone and it filled more than my belly.
And then I scanned music displays filled with real live CD’s and stuff. Alphabetical and genre-ed and sealed with that annoying sticker strip, just the way they were in the late 90’s when my Mama would drive me to the Sam Goody to buy the latest albums in the clean versions.
And then I ate the edges of a giant chocolate chip cookie and saved the middle for the man I love and it made me remember what a fantastic match we make. I like the crunchy outsides and he likes the gooey insides and it just works.
And right about now I’m sitting here thinking about the eclectic crew of patrons that have casually come through this bookstore. It’s baffling. It makes sense when you think about all the different titles and mediums and categories a place like a bookstore offers – but it sends me seeing all the wildly different people in the world seeking out the art that moves them.
We’re all so varied. Thank God.
May we see His image in everyone.
Later today I’ll pack up a ridiculous amount of bags holding books and drive back down the highway to motherhood. The littlest has a soccer match that Mama’s not gonna miss. And then I’ll hand out dinner, and sign folders, and check homework, and do our read-aloud, and scratch little backs, and pray for Grace to grace their lives again.
That’s the stunning thing about parenthood – no matter where or what consumes you your heart always drives back to home, back to the beings that stole your heart and will forever.
I see that the sun is reaching the other side of our Tennessee sky here so I better move on to the rest of my blessed Thursday. These alone hours slip away faster than any other.
Friends, my hope for you this weekend is that you would remember something good and fine and worthwhile that once filled your dreams and got you going – things that have since been buried under wonderful and sweet responsibilities, but that need to see the surface again.
Who knows what may come of it eventually. Maybe nothing. But maybe something.
Keep yourselves alive. Remember to stoke the embers every now and then. You never know what He’ll turn into a full out fire someday, no matter your current season or circumstance.
Love and encouragements to you all, friends.