I live with inner conflict. I love people but I crave solitude. I love to bake but avoid cooking. I am obsessed with reality TV but long to yank every single television set out of my home. I am compelled to stay busy but hunger for a slower life.
Maybe this is why I love the first day that wraps me in the warm blanket of fall. It stops me dead in my frantic summer tracks and causes me to plop down on the front porch swing to…well…breath. My heart begins to anticipate long, quiet nights in front of the fireplace, board games with my kids, chili for dinner, cookies in the oven and time to notice the little things all around me. Fall is the defibrillator that shocks my mind into it’s natural and normal rhythm. I begin to crave the trace scent of wood and dust in the pages of an old book. Not the sterile brightness of a kindle. My hands search for a pen and journal so my mind can record feelings and impressions of everyday occurences. Things that I have blindly encountered for months. My mind builds connections again. From a smell to an emotion….an experience to a lesson…a scene to a dream. Not to be misunderstood, I enjoy summer to a certain extent. I enjoy the time with my family, the chance to travel, the opportunity to play more. But the truth is, with all the activities, it seems that my senses are numbed. My heart doesn’t connect and I don’t appreciate my life as much when I’m racing around like a chipmunk on caffeine.
But today….today was beautiful. The rain had calmed the air. Rows and rows of black birds sat on electrical lines puffed up to warm themselves from the cool breeze. They even seemed like they were taking a breath. The sun rose with a slow swagger. The Gungor song on my radio seemed to have new layers of sound that thrilled my heart and sent chills down my spine. My soul recognized a new thirst for God. A thirst to be completely His. My husband smelled like home and my girls’ smiles thrilled my soul.
I think I’ll try to write this week.
It seems that I’m awake again….breathing.