July 20th

 I write July 20^th 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

slower walking,

deeper breathing,

longer pauses . . . .

These days, they taste like

pure joy,

pure peace,

pure hope.

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.

And stay.