This morning I find myself sitting in the silence. It’s an odd moment of unplanned freedom. The girls invited to a morning of activities. A quiet blessing. An unplanned gift. It’s still quite stunning in the moment. Free time. I don’t even know what to do with it anymore. The babies sleeping in their beds. The homeschool day already planned. The breakfast dishes done. Bible study already completed. Sure there’s that load of laundry I’m about to start. And that load that begs to be folded. Yeah, I’ll get that one done too. And my slight headache that I’m waiting on medicine to help curb while I drink more water.
But it’s quiet.
An unfamiliar, welcome friend.
So much swirling in my head. The boys – oh the boys’ little unstable world. Sometimes I just don’t know what to pray. So I just sit there, with my eyes closed and tell Him, “You know what my heart feels before I even feel it. Form the words for me, Lord. Pray for me, Spirit.” And my heart prays for the little minds caught in all of this. Even though they have seen much, God has also sheltered them from a lot. And I pray for their hearts, that they would be drawn to their Loving Father. Our Protector. Our Hope. Our Rock. And our Redeemer.
And then there’s their happy little world. Oh my delightful girls. The excitements of homeschooling. The thrills of morning walks. The squeals of bubble wrap to be stomped. The innocence sheltered. They don’t even know how God has blessed them. How God has sheltered them from so much hurt, loss, and struggle. And I pray for their hearts, that they would be drawn to their Loving Father. Our Protector. Our Hope. Our Rock. And our Redeemer.
I see the sunshine out the window. The nip is coming back as the Fall air caresses our cheeks. The dew warmed from the grass. A few birds calling out in the distance. The colors jump vibrantly into the trees. A few heavier leaves fall. How God can reap such beauty out of dying leaves. Such gorgeous brokenness.
Another reminder of hope for all this.
in all this.
My eyes fuzz over. Drinking in the colors. Some of the remaining greens melt into the yellows and hiding reds. The Painter of leaves…what a masterpiece of life, even amongst death.
The kettle sings. I can almost taste the bitter leaves, with a taste of sweet. And my heart flutters at the thought of sitting at the table with nothing before me but a cup of tea. No agenda. No list of pressing needs. No multitasking. Just watching the trees sway in the gentle breeze. Before they return. With stories and thrills and crafts to share. Before they awake with smiles and lunch wants. Before the dryer buzzes.
My moment away… without going anywhere in particular.