My eyes close for just a moment. I’m brought to a quiet place where the garden blooms are full outside my kitchen window. This is a slice of happiness, as my mind and body are weary. The color of the blooms are both bold and delicate, unmatched to any Crayola crayon we own. There are birds fluttering within the bushes and branches, synchronized in their flight.
Nothing outside appears dirty or noisy, though I know in my mind beneath the garden blooms are worms, wet dirt, and decomposition, and inside the bushes is squawking and wing-flapping.
Beauty may exist on the outside, but peace that exists on the inside is far better.
My hands are deep within the wash basin as I scrub and rise our dishes. The room is unkempt from where I stand, yet as I look out the window at the flowering containers I know the view looking in to our home looks entirely different as well. After all, honest perspective provides a different type of lovely.
Beauty here and beauty there, too.
I appreciate a kitchen that works hard, one that stores our plates and silverware, one that holds dutch ovens and mixing bowls and colanders, where the fridge keeps the produce fresh and the water cool. But, I long for a kitchen large enough that when I move around to grab the next ingredient I don’t bump into little ones or step on toes, causing both of us to lose our balance and patience.
Small spaces have the ability to develop good character and mold hearts. Am I choosing the right character?
I take a deep breath. My children run to me so I can resolve their troubles. They share their joys, I help them with creative projects, and the effort needed to parent well is sometimes too much to bear. Abide, I remind myself. I continue to keep bearing.
Even so, in this closed-eye moment at the kitchen sink, no one complains that the day feels too hot, nor the night too cold. Life isn’t lonely, but rather steadily enriching. Later on, my soul is hopeful as the moon appears in the dark of the night. I don’t long for what I don’t have. Abide.
When I open my eyes and re-focus on the suds within the wash basin, I realize I have all these things I daydream about, including so much more.
None of these special moments come to me all at once; no. What long-lasting comfort would come of that? Instead, these heartfelt moments come steadily, at their own pace, just as I need them to. In between them, I’m met with earthly aches and hurts and toiling. But in my heart, I rest in His deeply-rooted comfort. In my heart, I know He always provides.
There is great joy to experience in the morning, as the mourning fades away.
The loveliest of daydreams are right in front of us, in between the soap suds and the birds squawking and flower blooms. Do you notice them? Today, yesterday, and tomorrow; they are with us. Nothing that causes our wings to flutter can’t be soothed by Christ, for we are fed and cared for by Him. Under His wings we abide. This is not too much to bear.
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Absolutely love. Thank you for this.
Thanks for chiming in, Megan! xx
Beautiful! Loved your ending remark about under His wings we abide as I’ve been meditating on Psalm 91:4 lately. Love that picture of being covered by Him no matter what big or little trials we face in the day as mothers and women.
It’s quite the comfort :) And I love that chapter of Psalm, so many comforting thoughts. Thanks for sharing your thoughts this morning, Sierra! xx
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