A Familiar Feeling

I spent last week in Ohio with my sister and her family. It was a wonderful visit and could only have been made better by being able to blog every day and record every blessed moment. I did want to share one experience in particular that was much needed. I think we all have moments like these, whether they be in a garden or not, and they are such a blessing. Its a bit of a story, but I'll try to keep it as brief as possible.

My sister and I decided to tackle a project in her yard while I was there. First of all, she has a great space. Her garden is on two levels and they are connected via a stone staircase, maybe 12-14 steps. The staircase has seen better days and it was needing major repairs. (At this point, they don't know how long they are going to be in Cincy, so they don't want to invest a load of money just to leave it in two years.) We started the project on Friday and moved along nicely until the weather decided it was through being nice and we got rain. With only two stairs left to go, we thought it would be easy enough to finish on Saturday. Now Saturday night was "girls night" (friends and Twilight @ 8:30)and church was at 9am Sunday, which meant we needed to wrap things up by 7:30 - 8pm at the latest. Late afternoon Saturday, we finally got around to mixing the mortar and it was slow going. The bottom of the concrete bag was full of lumps and solid cement chunks, but we managed to mix one load easily enough. The kids were needing dinner and bathes. The house needed straightening and we both needed showers but I was not going home without that staircase being complete. With one more batch to mix Lou went in to get things in order and I was left alone. For those of you who really know me and know how I lived in my garden, you know this was a gift. I was so tired physically. The mortar was too wet and I was discouraged. The inner me was determined to finish but my body was spent and I just wanted to call it quits for the night. But I didn't, I couldn't. As I stopped to listen to the sounds around me and take in the fading light I was filled. I suddenly recognized this scenario from countless other nights in my life. The light pouring through the windows making shapes on the grass; looking at my hands and not being able to see what I was doing but not yet wanting to go in; my arms and legs being so worn-out and cold but not minding a bit; knowing my kids were inside, happy and warm; listening to the nightlife awaken and begin their symphony; and clinging to whatever light I had, to just do one... more... thing... This was played out before me in my mind and I felt so grateful to have been blessed with that moment. It filled me up and made me feel more whole than I have felt in months. (As silly as it may be, I have tears spilling down my cheeks as I write. That is how much it moved me.)

I don't know exactly why I share this with you except that I know there are times in our lives when we have so much going on around us and so much to take care of, that we get lost. Not to say that we don't know what is important, or that we are not doing the "right" things, but that little pieces of us get lost along the way. Sometimes it happens slowly, over years maybe and other times it can be a matter or weeks or months. Well, that had happened to me. And although I knew it was happening, I didn't stop it. I just didn't think it would have such an effect on me, closing off that part of me, even for a time. But it did. This isn't the first time I have felt I was missing some part of me and honestly it probably won't be the last, but it made me more aware. It made me want to take better care of myself and the gifts and talents God has given me. I want to feel as whole every day as I did sitting in the perfect dusk of my sisters' garden.