I sit, feet up, cup in hand, settling in to these morning hours...
I let the gentle wind and the birds' songs beckon me out of slumber to stumble-walk my way out to wake in this spot...
These early patio starts
--my, how they stir my soul...
As I let the sun filter through leaves and softly caress shoulders, I close my eyes and breathe in slow --breathe in deep. I slow my mind and feel my heart beat bolder
...for I meet You here.
and He orchestrates sounds from all around
--from wind chimes dancing on the breeze
to loud and happy conversations up high in trees...
--from the rhythmic timing of traffic,
and sprinklers, and mowers cutting grass...
to the happy waking of toddlers' voices
and their groggy little laughs.
The neighborhood awakes and I hear how busyness overtakes the day. But I...
-- I purpose to slow, to rest, to wait... I purpose to stay.
"Where You go, I go, Lord." and
"I'm not moving unless You move me."
This becomes the cry of my heart.
In this season, I have no desire to do, for the sake of doing.
No. Instead, I long to be.
--To be present, to be here with You in this moment...
--To be who You made me to be.
And I am learning to love this season of Now...
But oh, how this Symphony of Summer
overtakes the senses and again, I close my eyes.
The scent of freshly mowed lawns takes me back to childhood
--to the freedom of the unplanned summer days of the 70's...
Where summer felt cool like long lush grass between toes
like hair windblown and sun-kissed by unmapped bike rides...
like freeze tag and laying on hot cement to warm skin
after a too long, too cold summer evening swim...
Where inside was not encouraged
and games were played outdoors,
Where everybody knew your name,
and freedom meant having
the luxury of being bored...
Where cookouts, lemonade stands,
and Watermelon feeds gathered a crowd,
Where what started out as a simple party,
turned into a food fight, sticky and loud...
Where we roamed familiar streets in packs,
collected coins for the March of Dimes,
where ice cream trucks sang out
and joy squealed long, every single time.
Where we had sleep overs, piled in backyards
and we would talk and giggle and stare at the stars...
The lazy days of a 70's style summer
-it seems- have returned
and some thirty years later,
I am thankful for it!
I open my eyes and my heart
and long to give You praise
--but somehow, I have no words.
Your Presence lately,
-- both in me and around me --it's been thick...
-- Thick, but not heavy...
...and there is something Holy
in the simply sitting.
Something unproductive and free
that is at work deep beneath the surface
...like it is Winter, Summer, and Fall all at once.
When I struggle for phrasing, You whisper soft:
"When you tune your heart to Mine,
the very rhythm and pulse of your heart
is praise to Me and all of Heaven hears it!"
It takes intention to quiet your thoughts and soul...
to discover you and remember your worth...
But when you lean in and listen,
you will hear the sounds of heaven touching earth.
Ah yes... the Symphony of Summer,
how it just plays on and on and on,
if only we will slow enough to hear!
It offers sounds of fresh air, sweet smells,
deep breaths, resting, refreshing,
in a chorus of God comes near...