I write July 20th in my journal, and I frown.
Like the second-to-last bite of something delectable, a treat I don’t often order . . . .
like the last chapter of the novel I’d waited for months to begin, until I had the time to really dive in . . . . .
like the second hour of a rare and delicious two-hour conversation with a soul friend. . . .
summer is slipping through my fingers.
I spend 9 months longing for these blessed weeks, full of days when I can
serve a mid-morning breakfast . . . .
say an almost-unhesitating yes to requests for day-long playdates . . . .
linger by the flowers on my patio . . . .
leave the watch on my dresser.
These days of
longer pauses . . . .
These days, they taste like
So, as the count of those that remain grows smaller, I feel it:
Sadness seeping into the corners of my mind, my spirit, my heart.
The season is waning. And, along with it, I the fruit of this rest threatens to wither.
But today, this day, I have a choice.
And that choice can
anchor my mind,
nourish my spirit,
buoy my heart.
I can, I will
celebrate what has been,
savor what remains,
sing my gratitude to the Giver of this soul-drenching, spirit-filling rest.
And I can, I will
anticipate the faster-paced season to come,
know full well that these days, too, are blessings from the same Giver of goodness.
I will send the sadness away.
I will invite joy to stay awhile longer.
Or, better, to choose a room in my heart’s home.