Having a moment where my patio chair has been transformed into a throne of gratitude. What you see in this picture is what I see: pretty flowers, morning sky, cute little dog (who, by the way, is making the most adorable coos as she chews on her favorite toy, an old milk jug).
But let me tell you what you don’t see, and what I feel.
Those pretty flowers are the fruit of love, sweat, and a whole lot of patience. Most of them are holdovers from last year’s garden; I kept them alive in the garage or in a hodgepodge of vases and old candle jars, using up every space of window sill in the house. They’d be nothing, though, without the gracious rain from above, which is falling as we speak. My chair is tucked under a big umbrella so I stay warm and dry but get to listen to it pitter patter on the cloth above me. Sheltered. Protected. Comfortable.
That little dog chewing is the symbol of my own freedom and growth, a reminder that I have choices to make and can create my own reality. I wanted a dog for the last three years, since my most loved yellow lab passed away, but hubby had refused, citing the pooping and the shedding and the barking. Valid reasons, all of them – but all things I’m willing to tolerate for the love of this creature. So when he left, I invited her in. She’s growing like the Incredible Hulk. Her black puppy fuzz has been replaced by the slickest brindle coat, with a beautiful wave down the middle of her back. She’s a giant pain in the ass, but I love her desperately. (EXACTLY what I want someone to say about me.)
The morning light is telltale of a new day, which brings new chances to serve and love and choose and change and grow. To hug my kids and teach them something important about life. To see things from new angles. To feel breath expand my ribs from the inside out, or a shower cleanse my skin and my soul, or my head hitting the pillow at the end of the day when I did something, when I meant something to someone else.
This simple moment isn’t really so simple at all, is it? It is rich in the layered and as deep as I will allow my mind to contemplate (and then, of course, deeper still).
This is the Life that I love. Thank you, universe.