I sit with my foot propped up in the chair across from me. Originally this space was intended to be a reading place for captain and I, but the best laid plans… and all that. We don’t use it, but maybe we will when it’s cold outside again. For now the front porch is our domain to sit and be when he comes home from work. Not every day, but some. I’ll take it. I tried to take it this afternoon, in fact, and sit out there to read, but the tea called the bees and I could no better relax and focus on the word than I could take my eyes off the buzzing insect. But all was good because I came to the place claimed for reading, but not used. I used it.
I also brought the laptop in here. On the table you can find my bible, my journal, my writing book, several truth cards, the verse I am currently working to ingrain in my memory, and a Willow Tree called Happiness. The windows open to the backyard and a small space I have yet to claim. The frame that once held my schedule is currently in the midst of being remixed so it hangs on the wall empty. You can find hope and promise in empty sometimes.
Sometimes, not so much. I was empty of words this morning. Oh, plenty of ideas flirted around my brain, but they all dissolved into fits of chaos, which was ironic when one post I tinkered covered what to do when you find you are in the midst of chaos. I stopped deleting, put the laptop on the table which covers boxes of quilting and art supplies, and I picked up the books and the strawberry tea. The time was better spent reading.
“You haven’t moved,” oldest said when he came in from his recruiters meeting. I laughed for truth be told I was in the same position as when he had left. Tea by my chair, kindle in my hands, feet in the chair across from me. But I had moved in a way that maybe wasn’t visible.
I have often been caught in the trying, and never was able to move out of it. I would sit for hours looking and thinking, and have you ever noticed the more you do that the emptier your mind grows? So when you want something all you receive is the echo of laughter from expectations. Today I moved out of it. I went on to something else. And then I came back and found my way around the floorboard of the keys as my fingers chose the dance we would take.
The flowers are pink and purple, and the grass is a light green. The trees are swaying in the distance past the fence. My mind recalls the coast, for no reason other than the music which is playing. Two birds swoop through the sky off to only they know where. And all of life calls not to miss it.
Is there a space carved out for you in your life?