It’s been a really quiet around here after the whirl of last week, when we had to leave our home for 2 nights while it was being tented for termites. I packed 10 large boxes of items that I didn’t want to be subjected to the poisonous gases used to kill the termites and left them at Jenna’s when I dropped Chloe there. It was almost like moving; I missed my little home while we were gone. I drove by a couple of times to make sure all was safe, and it was.
Inspired by Susan, I decided to juice today. It’s been a while. So I made one of my favorites– green lemonade.
It will be even quieter tonight, as Leah is out of town on a business trip and won’t be back until Saturday evening. Life is different with her working now, but we still manage to squeeze in girlfriend time once in a while with a stop at Starbucks on our way to a drive along the beach. It took me many years to appreciate where I live. But I am happy to say, I can find beauty in the diversity of the place I have [sometimes reluctantly] called home for over 35 years now. The ocean is such a lovely part of creation that holds many lessons for a searching heart.
The picture above is the scene I see every morning, as my husband pours a bowl full of milk and cereal and retires to his office to answer emails, while it gets a bit soggy before he eats it. yuck. Each to his own. It is a comforting sight to me though, because it silently speaks of the patterned rhythm of an ordered life. His morning routine is like clockwork, much like his sure and steady, nearly unflappable, nature.
I have a few projects that still need to be wrapped up. My curtains. My picture wall. They both got put on hold as I readied our house for de-termiting, and I haven’t picked them back up.
In fact, this week has been much too quiet for my flesh. No online work, no photos to edit, not many telephone calls, no outside appointments. It has been an extended quiet time [well, sometimes quiet] between just Him and me. I’ve been pretty much a mess. Feeling like Jacob must have felt– wrestling the angel. Experiencing some degree of brokenness, but probably not nearly enough, because I still find myself screaming on the inside [and sometimes out]. Longing to break through and feeling so far away from the threshold. But I press on believing, because He promises to be faithful. 1