So the trees were all there dancing in the breeze. Rustling their leaves above the noises of kids playing well below their branches while the moon looked on and the sun fell.
I stood still. Scared any movement would frighten this moment away. I struggle living in the moment. But the moment had me wrapped up in its tangles and I was in no rush to break free.
Our Lenten gratitude ribbons danced on the gate in their blues and greens and pinks and yellows and inspired little bit to her own free-form, wind-blown dance.
I felt such utter gratitude, in the deepest marrow of my bones, as I breathed it all in.
Grateful for little tee-ball players rounding their first bases of the season.
Grateful for snatches of real conversation held with friends so dear to me over the melee of children’s banter.
Grateful for a church committed to the neighbors on their street and the ones all the way over in Kenya.
Grateful for a husband home safely smelling of the land and sporting three day stubble.
Grateful for the first swim of the spring and the pink cheeks reflecting hours soaking up the sun.
Grateful for children who listened and obeyed and laughed and played and helped and worked and slept and swam and ate and danced and prayed.
Grateful for even the bloodied lip because it meant we were alive and dirty and playing and falling down and getting back up to do it all over again.
A song played on college radio two decades ago, and it ran on repeat in my head tonight. It’s all I could think. It’s all I can say…
There’s nothing like the warmth of a summer afternoon
Waking to the sunlight, being cradled by the moon
Catching fireflies at night, building castles in the sand
Kissing mama’s face goodnight and holding daddy’s hand
Thank you, Lord, how could I ask for more?
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