June 2020
Outside my window, lovely sunrises through the woods. The clouds are like lace against the sky. I can see the pool area from my seat at the table, and the deck is brilliant. Half of the rock garden is tamed, and I feel hope. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to Cindy. Before the image went through, my words did: "Only you can fully know the task I have ahead of me." And she responded she knew. I think I loved most that she took in the brilliance of the pool deck before she noticed half the clearing of the weeds. I loved that her eyes soaked in the details of this place. Only someone whose heart has been invested of every inch would delight in the details. I'm thankful for her and this relationship we have. I am thankful for this home.
Giving thanks for these first days out from under. Some friends have reached out about getting together. I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know how close I want to be with anyone. They welcome me back like I haven't been away, but I have been away and I am different for it. How do I proceed like I'm not?
In the school room, we are in summer mode. Erin and I are reading
The Hunger Games together. I received a book in the mail, a book that captivated me as a child.
Penny Candy by Edward Fenton. It came wrapped like a gift inside the mailing envelope. The library is opening at the end of the month for curbside pick up. I have books to return that I still haven't read.
From the kitchen, a Misfits box of organic produce. I am putting the subscription on hold for the summer months since it's easier to get fruits and vegetables in this season. But I have enjoyed the surprise bounty.
I am resetting. Assessing. The Great Pause gave me a much needed break from the hustle, and like many others, I question what getting back to normal means, if that is what I really want to get back to. I quit my yoga membership--an hour class took up two hours of my day with driving, set up and waiting. It's nice to fit in a practice on my own terms. I start to apply the philosophy to other areas. When friends want to fill the calendar, I am grateful and also torn. I don't know that I want to spread myself out so thin. I want to hold space for people who reached out to me in the storm. I don't know that I want to shrink margin for people who took off at the first mention of rain. Maybe I don't want to get back to normal if normal meant hustle, exhaustion, and disappointment.
I don't want to forget my purpose. To be who God made me to be. To be an excellent wife to my husband. To pour into my children's lives. To steward the responsibilities I have well.
I am reading Breaking Free by Beth Moore,
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, and I've got
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and
A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin in queue.
Around the house, we are trying to get things in shape. The gardens. The walkways. Other projects that seem to have fallen off the priority list in the black hole of the last three years. I didn't get the walkway lined with marigolds like I have in the past. Honestly, I'm being swallowed alive by the weeds and vines.
I am (not)
hearing anything but the fan of my computer. It's like white noise.
A view of my favorite things:
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| I really like this shirt. |
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| Erin and Coz. |
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| A library question of favorite childhood books. These were two I loved. And Penny Candy, not pictured. |
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| Masked |
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| The end mark of love, a lump in the throat. |
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| Shane powerwashing the deck. |
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| Recorder practice with Erin for this month's Mummers. |
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| I think this one is Caius. Or maybe it is Aristotle. |
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| The left side I just cleared of weeds. The right side is thick with vines. Work in progress. |
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| Lanie and Ruth |
At the table we enjoyed cold, juicy, sweet watermelon. I love summer fruits. I love iced tea with lemon. I love gathering with people in my life. Not sure who will be at our table this year. Thinking long on influences, mighty men, the battlefield, safety, and reliability.
