returning to here.

I opened my eyes enough to see the sunlight.  My heart raced a bit as I questioned what day it was.  I was in a twin bed with books on top of me and a six year old snuggled into my side.  My eyes looked around the room and then I remembered ... it was Saturday.
I let my head sink back into the pillow quietly returning to a peaceful resting place.  I didn't need to rush.  I didn't need to prepare. But I did need to rest.

The remainder of the morning was slow and productive.  I quietly wondered what it would have been like to be sitting in the same room as Ann Voskamp, and then I quickly smiled.  She would be proud of me for staying home.  She would be cheering over the choice I made.  I didn't get to see her this weekend or hear her quiet calming voice, but I'm with her in spirit - giving thanks in the midst of returning to this place I call home.

I called a few friends, wrote a few notes and sealed them in envelopes, started the laundry, swept the floor, and folded towels. Beds were made, bills were sorted, and a piece of pumpkin pie was savored.  It's funny how everything seems just right when you return to a place that you're called to be in. And right now, the place I've returned to is a quiet, peaceful place of rest not in a physical location, but in my heart.

I turned on my camera {which just happens to be the best advice Lisa could have ever given me this morning}, and set about doing the normal every-day things that are often as far from beautiful as can be.  I dusted.  I re-hung a frame that had fallen weeks ago.  I switched out art work.  I listened to music.  I intentionally put on the agenda for the day REST!  I knew I was supposed to savor the chores, the work, the quiet, and the life I've been too busy to enjoy.

Getting things done instantly and quickly will do that to a person.  Facebook will do that to a person.  It's instant, it's fast, and right now it isn't where I need to be writing so that two seconds later someone can like it. I think I've been in this place over the past year where it's easy to forget who you really are because you're busy trying to be 5 of yourself at the same time.  I  look fine, and sound fine, but my soul is far from fine.

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I spent the late afternoon outside with the boys.  My garden hadn't seen me in a month. The sunflowers and roses that filled my summer with beauty were sending me off  with bits of beauty still remaining... reminding me that to truly gain an understanding of who you are, you have to die to yourself.

Later in the evening I turned on the computer and sat.  I stared at the header of this journal/blog I started 7 years ago and I cried.

It hadn't been updated for over a month.  It hadn't even been looked at.  Mack's first days of kindergarten are non-existent according to Bales and Tales.  My tooth extraction and gaping hole, the stitches, the swelling ... all of it is history & old news on Facebook, but it's still so alive here.  I scrolled and I cried, and I heard God whisper this:

Write. I want you to write. Hold your camera and remember who you are.  Press & release that shutter - over and over and over.  This place is your home, and it's welcoming you back.  I'm welcoming you back. This is where you are supposed to be.  Right here.  This ranch, this yard, this camera, this faith that speaks volumes without saying a word.  Return to the place that gives you My peace. 

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The 3 gifts for 10.5.13 were gifts returned.  I think that's proof that I'm right where I need to be - sitting here, sorting through pictures, and typing as fast as I can as God whispers words to my soul so that I can share them with the world - or at least my mom.

Here's to returning to that which gives us life ~ not always understanding it, but trusting that it's where we need to be ... and it's who we need to be.