This morning I walked through my home in the early morning light and found myself wrapped in the joy of loving my life.
The fact is, I love my life.
I love the race car track spread out in the sunroom floor.
I love Anna's "I'm reading that" books liking here and there. Four in all right now.
I love the sleeping bags rolled up nicely and sitting misplaced in my bedroom floor, knowing on any given night, for reasons I may never know, my youngest will wander in, unroll one, and find peaceful rest sleeping on it on my side of the bed.
I love Robert's stained and wrinkled memory verse paper lying crinkled on the table beside the recliner where we learn the scriptures together.
I love pens, pencils, and crayons waiting for their next creative adventure. I wonder if they ever considered waiting in the tubs with the rest of the pens, pencils, and crayons. But then, what is the fun in being like everyone else, right?
I love Robert's waking up really early to see Rob off to work and then falling asleep in my lap in the recliner, where I leave him while I type in a few words of thought or sit a bit at Jesus' feet. Sometimes I just stay in the reclner, peaceful nine-year old spread across me, in wonder of how much his act of love reveals God's love for me.
I love the sound of our Millie-Mix snoring on the couch close to us. An abandoned dog tagged for destruction, rescued, loved, restored. In so many ways, I can identify.
I love the unmade bed where Rob and I spent a few moments this morning whispering in the dark, warm and content--and then the alarm went off....again.
I love the smile of remembering...
I love Bibles stacked in different parts of the house. Different versions. Different study notes. All used at different times.
I love the huge Christmas tree standing in the living room with its decades of ornaments...each one a piece of our history, a symbol of what has made our present...and the stories...the smiles...the sneaky tears that come with memories of those rejoicing in the wonder of Christmas every day...at Home.
I love the sun spilling through the windows, the creative remodel design bringing sunlight where darkness used to be.
I love coats waiting to keep us warm, mittens to protect precious hands, and scarves...a gift from Gran.
This morning I even love the two piles of laundry sitting in the living room waiting to be folded...and now ironed.
I love the Kleenex boxes, not put in away in tidy cubbies, but sitting out ready to render aid during this season of sniffly noses and too common sneezes.
Funny how things on a driven day--the day when I'm drowning in my to do list or the day when I'm concerned not so much about the people who live in this house but about what those outside think of it--funny how on those days, a book on a table instead of a shelf, a toy in the floor and not in a bedroom, or a child who is more concerned with how to love than how things look can be such nerve fraying burdens. However, there are times when wisdom whispers louder than the cacophony of life's uninterested demands, and I stop and ask, "Lord, what do you love?" When I listen closely, I find He loves the same things I do.
In that moment, I love my life all over again.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009