Aaah, Summer. A time for me to wake up when my mind tells me
to, not the alarm. Conversation with God in the morning with warm coffee in hand, percolates in me a peaceful approach for the rest of the day. Wellness, mindfulness of His promises, the birds sing for they already know. I enjoy the June “gloom” although I think of it as “beachy”
weather and soak up the afternoon rays, tending to my growing garden. I might
just take a few pictures and zoom into nature and the wonder of it all, cell phone camera in hand. It’s
quiet time, reflection time, assessment time. Yes, I do have a few projects to
tackle, creative things I wish to explore and conversations to have. Summer
for me brings refreshment, like a refill of a tall iced tea, a diving in to the
pool of goodness and remembrance of what God has done, the opening up even more
so of the sunflower petals revealing more seeds for His purposes, a little exploring possibly. Summer, a sanctuary season of hope, a peaceful
paradise for my soul, an opportunity to listen to my own thoughts and lay them
like a blanket against the innumerable warm sand grains of God’s plan.
Aaah, Summer. My phone rings early, very early. It’s my
Texas buddy who I’d like to think is so anxious to talk with me, confuses the
time difference. Weren’t you suppose to call at 9? Your time or my time? We
giggle. That’s OK, because…actually, I am super excited to chit-chat with her! We talk about life stuff, the good and the difficult, past and present, justice
and relationships, tornado sirens and preparedness, faith-filled friends and hope
in their circumstances. We'll do it all over agan next week, though I hope not so early for me.
Do you have a friend who points you always to God? Our
common concerns leads us to the same conclusion, we must keep trusting Him.
Amen.
Aaah, Summer. I hear noises downstairs and I am reminded
that today, construction (tearing up before something new comes) begins on a wall in my living room. This rental
house, our home the last 12 years needs a few improvements and…its summer, I’m
home.
“Hola… can we come in?”
It begins. I am still in P.J.’s. I lock myself upstairs and prepare for the
day. It is Tuesday, the first Tuesday of
my summer. The gardeners come on Tuesday and I hear the rumble of multiple lawn
mowers and blowers. A bit later, I come
downstairs. Now covered in plastic sheeting to protect from dust and flying
debris, my living area is off limits. I move around the corner to the hallway
and kitchen.
Puddles. Water. Not
the kind you want to run through for summer fun.
The toilet downstairs chose to overflow, somewhere between the time
hubby left for work and my trek downstairs. I knock on my son’s door and
squish onto his carpet.
Aaah, Summer. Our small wet/dry vac does not do the job, so
a borrowed one, industrial-size, finds its way from the neighbor’s house to
ours. Now, my “quiet world” shouts lawn mowers, hammers, sawzalls, talking
construction workers and a large vacuum cleaner.
I settle into my thoughts. My plans are not God’s plans. I hear Him
above the noise.
New things take work. Broken things need attention and
sometimes demand it in not such a graceful way. Maintenance is something we
must do every day, consistently in our week to stimulate more growth and rid the weeds. You can tell which places do that, those that don't.
I know which one I want to reflect.
Aaah, Summer. Maybe it’s not the quiet peace I need to pull
into, though that is a good thing, but it's how God shows up in the disruptive
places, the over flowing, uncertain places, the messy places. Isn’t that me?
Wake me up God, with your voice of love and hope. Pull me
downstairs Lord and deconstruct my attitude and frame again, the parts that do not
reflect or lead to Your Glory. Mow me over, Lord, with Your grace and goodness
and show me how to best maintain my Spirit towards Your sovereign plan. I long
to trust You more with the outcomes I do not yet see.
Aaah, Summer. One day at a time to shine and prepare for a
Harvest of magnificent bounty. Thank you Spirit, like the sunflower, keep my
head turning towards You... in anything and everything, in all things.
Like a Monet painting displayed before me, my butterfly garden is viewed through a lens of construction plastic. Beauty in not just in the ashes but can be displayed in the process as well.
Considerably Yours... even in construction,
Coleene
