I've only been up for a few minutes.It is quiet in the house. The only sound right now is the hum of the refrigerator,and the bubbling of the fish tank.Outside these walls, there is no light or sound that betrays that anyone is awake, or even here. I am alone with my thoughts, and my Lord,content for it to be so. I stretch and sip my ice water,and I thank HIM,as ever and always for this beautiful day. Although to most, this would not be held in high regard, because it is a rainy, overcast, cool day,and yet in such, my heart soars.There is no bright sunlight to hurt my eyes, or burn my skin, or heat the atmosphere to the point that I am sweating and uncomfortable. It must be the Irish in me. Ireland, I was told by my brother, was windy and cool and Grey all the time he was there. I hear another sound, and glance past the gap in the kitchen curtains, and see the flag and the wind-sock rustling in the breeze,and see the source of the sound...my wind chimes swinging wild and free. Not just to and fro, but stirred all around. Jingling and tinkling and bonging. From small and delicate to huge and hulkingly sturdy I love them all, and each one makes it's own special sound. They make me smile. Just glancing past the window screen puts me in mind of those days when I was young when the kitchen door would stand open to the breeze, while we would be cooking and filling the house with smells of sugar syrups and fruit while canning. Days before the heat bothered me overmuch, when in the summer we would cook and bake, every day, and there was no such thing as air-conditioning in the home. We pinned up our hair, and rolled up our sleeves and sweat with fans running everywhere, while we peeled and cored and pared apples and other fruits,and when that was well begun, we would go on to other foods, like potatoes that would go into salads, or with pot roast that would be eaten that same day. Sometimes the kitchen would fill up with neighbors dropping by who would sit and grab a knife and help out while they drank coffee or tea and talked about the goings on in the area. Mr. White was down sick again,poor thing, or Mrs.Wilson had a baby,and Oh, it was just a miracle! And while the talking and the working was going on, so often the Jewel Tea man would come and rap softly on the screen door, and ask, did anybody need anything? And he would be welcomed in, and sat down with a cup of coffee or tea, or ice water, and show off his blankets and teas and coffees,spices and flavorings,mints and candies, crackers and baby clothes...and so much more.Throughout all this, little kids who had been playing outside would run in,make a bee line to the bathroom, one right after another,and then line up at the kitchen sink each to grab a glass of water, guzzle it down, and run back out again, even when fresh baked cookies were being brought out of the oven at the time, they rarely stopped to beg one, for fear they would be seen to be idle,and then put to work somehow. They had been given that empty threat to keep them busy outside, so the work wouldn't be slowed by having to tend to childish wish fulfillment born of boredom. Kids didn't need to be sitting in the house on nice days, wanting to be entertained. They needed to be outside in the sunshine and fresh air,playing at tag or hop-scotch, or riding bikes: exercising their bodies,and using their imaginations devising games, while in the house, the older children,and the adults could speak freely about life lessons that adolescent girls needed to hear, but their younger brothers and sisters did not. Occasionally a break in the work would come naturally, as through the screen door would come the sound of laughter of such complete delight, someone would have to peek, and then all would group around the door, to see and tow-headed little boy, rolling in the grass with a bunch of puppies, licking him to pieces...or to see a whole bunch of little children laughing at the sight of a mommy duck and her chicks waddling across the lawn towards the pond. And in that golden moment, someone would say, :" Oh, for a camera..." And then a young mother, or a group of mothers would have to excuse themselves from the group to rescue the child...or was it the puppies? or the children...or was it the ducklings? Before a chase scene ensued.
And then,during the time when mothers would be reminded they needed to take their brood home and prepare them lunch,hastily scribbled recipes would be written or a fresh jar of jelly or preserves wrapped in an old tea-towel would be given as thanks for the help,and the chaotic scene would end, going back to just you and your grandmother, or mom, and your own lunch would be set out, and your grandma's radio show would be turned on,while you sieved the last bit of the batch of grapes for the jelly,before you sat at the table,letting your aching arms rest while you sat quietly through the soap opera, and let your soup cool. Once the half-hour long show was over, you could ask questions that might have come to mind during the visits,and grandma would answer, but for right now, her attention was only on her story. Which was good, too. It gave a young girl time to think about all she had seen and heard. A chance to come to the realization that life is a mixture of good and bad moments woven together, but with a foundation of love and purpose, one makes of their own life what they put into it. It can't all be nothing but laughter and golden sunshine, and will never be all doom and gloom. Things happen, and you can't change that. But how you choose to face your life is what makes the difference. Hold those golden moments tightly as a treasure, to warm you when the gloom comes to call, and when the bad times come, as they surely will, spend just a few minutes thinking back to those times when you watched those puppies frolicking on the lawn with that tow-headed boy and the sound of his laughter will lighten your heart.
And then, praise God for those memories,for He made them possible.
OUI?
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