Yesterday evening I bundled up and went on a walk to the end of our road and back.
It had been a noisy Monday- with my soon-to-be-3-year old acting line a threenager; homeschool presenting a few challenges; and the dog being extra spastic about anyone (or animal) who walked past our house.
I found myself desperately needing a few minutes of silence. And the air was just the right wintry crispness, without being so cold that it would sting in my lungs.
So I breathed it in deeply.
And-
having finished the “business” part of the day, despite its challenges
and opportunities for growth,
I breathed in gratitude
that God had seen me through it all, beautifully…
In the moments where grace flowed out
and I responded gracefully,
but also in the moments
where my capacity was exceeded
and I responded snappily too.
All the way to the end of the road,
my body breathed slowly, intentionally.
And all the way to the end of the road,
my soul inhaled His grace, and exhaled praise.
Thank you, God, that not everything has to feel good to bring good.
Thank you, God, that you help us get through all the feels. And that you give us the gift of good feelings – freely – when we go to you for those!
Thank you for the opportunity to homeschool, and the reminder that even though we no longer have a natural transition- from work time to family time, you can help us intentionally transition.
Leaving everything unfinished for the day- unfinished, and without guilt.
Not allowing that to keep us from our time of togetherness and recharge.
Trusting, that learning was still done.
That He will use what we were able to do,
and that whatever we didn’t get to will still be there for us to work on tomorrow.
And the same with all our other work too.
Knowing that we’ve done what we could do,
and even when it wasn’t as much
as we wanted to be able to do,
it was enough.
Not because we, or it, is ever enough,
but because He offers us the opportunity to combine it with His grace – which is always EXCEEDINGLY and ABUNDANTLY beyond enough for us.
Remembering this melted any stress that had piled itself onto my shoulders during the day.
Walking back up to my house, I noticed a package on my porch. A gift we had ordered, ready to be wrapped and placed under the tree.
When I went to pick it up, I got another unexpected gift. A view of my kids from the outside in. And a particularly beautiful moment:
Our oldest was teaching the toddler to peel potatoes. Patiently. Protectively. Informatively. Joyfully. I’m not sure the two year old understood, but he did soak in the opportunity to try something his older brother could do.
To anyone driving past, I may have looked like a creeper. Hiding in the shadows of our porch, peeking inside, watching it all unfold like a play in which I had the privilege of front-row seating to.
Finding myself going to pull my phone out of my pocket, hoping to capture the moment like I do all of my favorites- but remembering that I had left my phone in the house on purpose, to unplug for a bit.
And then- hearing in my head my husband’s usual reminder- “Just enjoy the moment, Daylene. See it for real, not always behind a screen.”
Touché, babe. You’re right.
This one is TOO good for a camera.
This image is going to be engrained directly on my heart. ❤️
As I sat there, delighting in how my oldest was delighting in his younger… I suddenly felt aware that God often “looks in” on us this way too.
And I felt a gentle encouragement, an inspiration by my boys, to WANT to make God – my Father- smile, in the same way that my children had made me smile in this moment. As often as possible. Not that they are always perfect. (My walk in the first place was necessitated by ALL of our less-than-perfections.) But that they were real. Present. Able to flow past all the hiccups of the day and move onto the next teachable, lovable moment.
My husband calls me a creeper sometimes because I love glancing in open-windows as we drive around town. Not in a creepy way, but to me- it’s almost as if they’re dollhouses. The way I figure it- if you don’t want anyone seeing in, keep your curtains closed. And mine are usually open because I don’t care who sees in.
I especially love this time of year, seeing all the lit-up Christmas trees. They’re simply beautiful! And most people position them near a window and leave the curtains open so that others can enjoy the light.
Nobody examines them so closely that they judge-
“Oh, your ornaments are crooked. That branch is a little off, there’s a gap right there.” (Though we might judge our own that way.) They simply enjoy the gift of lights shared from the inside out.
And it got me thinking-
I believe that’s what God wants us to do with our lives. Simply to shine. Simply to delight in one another, our family. Simply to be open and allow that to shine into the outside world. To not worry so much about if someone’s going to think we are less than perfect, or pick apart our flaws- but, admitting we aren’t perfect, and yet sharing our lights just the same, then moving past any hiccups and doing it all over again the next day and the next and the next.
Breathing in the gift of it all-
that we get to be alive
and we get to do life with others-
inhaling that grace,
and exhaling gratitude as a natural effect.
Delight in Him, and He will bring delight (the light) to you! 🕯Life with Him is the most delightful thing ever.
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