I'm caught up in the dailiness.
The watching the car roll down the driveway, kids waving to Daddy, oatmeal on the stove and hot water in the kettle.
Dishes washed by hand, soap bubbles flying. Kids running - never walking - on hard wood floors.
~ thump ~ thump ~ thump ~
My heart goes into my throat every time. The loudness cuts through the quiet of sunbeams and thoughts. And yet, a welcome sound.
There is time to think, these quiet days. There is time to read, these inspired days. There is time to knit and time to fold laundry and time to play and pretend to be pirates.
And there is time to be utterly and completely undone.
I read Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts slowly. And I have never felt more... broken... and whole... and confused and loved and full all at once.
These days I stare out windows and smile at the thumps and give thanks instead of raising my voice.
Sometimes.
And I feel myself falling into the dailiness. The chores and motherhood and marriage. And faith. And I'm trusting. I'm learning to trust in something bigger than myself and my little world. It scares me.
And feels beautiful and simple and like home.
My heart goes ~ thump ~ thump ~ thump ~ and I wonder if someone is looking down from above, my heart loudness cutting into some quiet. A welcome sound.
Linking up with Emily...
