i have realized that i am short on time.
these limited hours in a day are full. there is a house to straighten and that book i want to write and those books i want to read and those other things i said i would write and this blog that i like to write.
it makes me want to take a walk in the woods.
it makes me want to catch the sun on the gold of october and say, ‘see this day!’ i might have 40 or 50 more octobers if i’m lucky. so i walk on the fallen leaves of the newest season come and i forget about writing and about reading.
i want to see the day.
but then my walk is done.
i pick up another book that retells a sermon. a man bullied his wife and his family for years until a child was stillborn and the wife almost died. as he held the son in his arms he knew he had a choice to make; continue blaming and harming or begin to love well and right.
he chose the latter and began to suffer long to win back the hearts he’d broken everyday for years.
and it worked. he held his tongue. he listened instead of demanding to be the center of attention. he proved he could be trusted. he memorized his wife’s heart. and now i’m crying in my light blue car.
that god changes my heart or that he changes anyone’s heart.
this is the good news.
we drive home and i clean too much and the kids watch too many episodes of fetch. i get the dishwasher going and we take the blankets out to the back deck. we build a fort and we lay all over each other and read books. while mazzy reads i fall asleep for two minutes in the october air. we play memory and we eat the chocolate chip cookies we’ve made.
i love my too full days and i will write about them.
i will read the important books that tell secrets about how to enter into the heart of jesus. i will be my husband’s wife and my children’s mother. i will be all things to all people and then i will go for a walk.
i will remember how small, how meaningless i am, falling to the ground, glorious and full of color.
i will grow octobers older.
repost from the archives.