i drive down ohio roads. i drink in the rolling southern ohio landscape like water. i don’t know what it is about coming up over a slow curve to find a white, paint-peeling church with it’s faithful buried along side of it.
it does my soul good.
i spend the day barely indoors. there is a roof over my head, but it’s just there to catch the rain while i’m sitting out on the porch. it’s a tin roof and the rain sounds louder and the grass looks greener than i’ve heard or seen in a while.
maybe i just haven’t been looking.
the sure thing of autumn is knocking lightly at the door. i pull on warm socks and i take a cup of coffee out front. i have to answer it.
nothing slows me down like cool weather. nothing stops my eye like leaves changing color. nothing pulls up a chair and bids me to sit like light falling on crisp turning yellow at the dying end of this year.
i don’t know what this year has been like for you. maybe you’re glad to see it go. could be that you can’t believe it’s already thinking about closing up shop.
it may be the hardest year of your life.
there is more to come.
and it could be that this next season may finally be the one that helps me settle for less. this fall might just convince me that the perfect, dynamic, purpose driven life is just a dream. that real life is harder. and sadder. and less. it’s so much less than any of us could say.
maybe this fall will teach me to stop breaking my heart. could be that this one will at last find me picking up the reddest leaf i’ve ever seen and saying thank you like i really mean it.
gratitude journal ~ one thousand gifts ~ 2170 – 2193
tree full of finches
asking for help
what the young folks are listening to
being an amateur
prayer still working
‘you’re doing fine, suzy. just fine.’
super cool columbus