Dear friends, as I write, the morning is new. I am sitting at my desk, just me, my coffee, and my thoughts. Growing up, my dad used to tell me that if I missed the morning I missed the best part of the day. As a teenager who engaged in sleep marathons during summer months, I considered his summation a whole lot of hogwash. Through the years, however, I came to realize how right those words are. Mornings whisper to my spirit. Their quiet hours have a pureness about them that can’t be duplicated, a pureness that I crave and seek out.
The last few days have brought sighs and smiles, starting with Saturday when my parents drove over to spend the day. Yes, dear old dad is still able to drive and I dread the day when some brave soul may have to tell him he can't. Sparks will fly, but for now he remains the chief navigator. Blessed is what we are.
My sweet mother delivered the pillowcases she had made for the both of us to send to Kelley's Pillowcase Project. I love them all and encourage you to participate in this worthy cause.
As summer draws to a close, I must say it’s been a one-of-a-kind summer for us—not in temperatures, but in personal matters that stretch your faith and test your patience. There have been comings and goings, here a little, there a little, time spent away from home, from church, from family, and time spent away from all of you.
But yesterday, as happens around this time every year, there on the ground lay the first sign that a new season is on its way, that nothing lasts forever, not even the state of limbo. (And let the people shout, "Hallelujah and amen!")
It was only a small thing, but I felt a stirring in my spirit as I imagined the coming days when the smell of a pumpkin pie baking in the oven will waft through the house. When, on brisk evenings, homemade soups will fill heavy pots on the stove, and cornbread will tumble out of an iron skillet, golden brown and piping hot, just waiting to be slathered with butter.
Sometimes, it's the promise of what is to come that gives us the courage to accept what is, to let go of what was, and to keep moving forward.
Until next time, sweet friends, your company remains a pleasure. May the final days of summer be slow and easy and filled to the brim with all of the things that make you smile.