Simple things can give me such profound pleasure. Whether it is holding a clicky, inky pen and a piece of scratch notebook paper or walking through the dewy grass barefoot at 6:30 in the morning; I enjoy finding the hidden gifts each day in an ordinary life....
Making someone smile, waltzing with your pretended partner in an open field (hoping no one is watching), cooking in the kitchen with the inspiration of Julia Child (*note* this "inspiration" is not fool proof - you're still liable to burn your souffle), laughing off an embarrassing moment, re-arranging a cluttered space into an organized, accessible and aesthetically pleasing area, reading such an incredibly inspirational and profound Scripture passage that you want to share it with the whole world!, sitting at the piano composing a ballad which you'll soon forget, cleaning the house with vigor (*hint* for those of you who lack motivation, just pretend all your in-laws are coming over in 3 hrs - that should do it!), writing a letter, laying in the damp grass on a clear night and marveling at the LORD's beautiful stars (all of which are named and accounted for by Him) and the list goes on and on......
For me, home is the place where most of this takes place. It is the warm, inviting glow of the kitchen chandelier which is a bit too dim because only two of the light bulbs are currently employed; the rough, unfinished hardwood floors which turn my bare feet two shades too dark; the sunlight shining through the south windows onto my desk; our creaky steps (after skipping the third one to the bottom, take two at a time and you'll reach the top without waking the whole house), etc...
A small house is actually a blessing. The five occupants of it are forced to get along and enjoy each other's company. After all, it would be foolish to be enemies with someone you run into every four minutes. But that's where the great outdoors come into the picture - I often escape to the barn loft or take a walk down "lover's lane" (My version of Anne's dubbed path). Perhaps it's my Father coming out in me. He'll say that the woods are calling him and then he's off, on what he calls, a "walk-about." I often get the same irresistible urge.
Some may think me a strange, sentimental fool for treasuring such things.... but then again, "If you've never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom." ~Audra Foveo
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