Slow

I looked at my phone tonight. The number 29 caught my eye. It's hard to believe that it's already the end of October. In exactly one month, I will be 38. And I don't think it's just me - this feeling that the years seem to pass in a hurry {each one more fleeting than the one prior}.

It's hard to keep perspective sometimes. Let's be honest, it's much easier to focus on the negative, the lacking, the broken. Wounds are difficult to choke down.

Tonight, I took things as they are. I slowed down enough to laugh and enjoy those that God gave me to love. And I decided that there isn't anything else to do in the hard times but to love. Love, after all, is the only thing that remains.

So, I made chicken biscuits for dinner and while they cooked, I peeled pears for a tart. And the boy played with his kitten. And I laughed watching the two of them. Thankful.

Then I took out one of my grandmother's old baking sheets. It is warped and it has its own special patina from the years of service. I can't help but smile as I place pastry within its walls.

And I feel peace. I am hemed in. I am thankful for it all. This time. My dirty kitchen. Everyone home this autumn evening. I can't help but feel like this is the sacred. Here in this place with all of the broken people. Here is Jesus. And this is why He came, anyways...not for the well.

I pulled the tart from the oven. It is beautiful. Perfect in its imperfection. And it's my first attempt, after all.

And I will keep attempting: Attempting to be thankful for everything. Attempting to love well. Attempting to make the time slow. And in the slowing, I pray that these boys of mine, big and small,  don't miss it. I pray that they feel Jesus near, too, and know that it is all grace.