As I sit here on my brown couch, typing this post, it is late Sunday night.
It is always late at night, it seems, when I am posting (. . .thus all the typos. At a certain point, all the letters just kinda blur together. But sometimes, I just gotta write!).
It's been a busy weekend.
Heck. It's been a busy life.
But this weekend was a bit busier than average weekend stuff.
There was a family party for Josiah Friday night.
Our very dear friends, Pat and Theresa Forbes joined us for the celebration. We used to celebrate all our holidays and family milestones with them. They have moved far away, but they are always in our hearts, and on Friday, we had the pleasure of having them at our table!
I know the wedding ceremony and celebration is primarily for the bride and groom, but I had so much fun seeing old friends and talking to people I haven't seen in a while and bustin' a few moves with my home girl Kerri, it felt like we were all the stars of the evening!
He seemed quite squeemish about the whole thing.
I just couldn't believe I missed the photo op.
And my little dancing man.
I stayed way latter than I planned to.
It was that much fun.
Staying late has it's consequences though.
Just ask Cinderella.
By the time I got home, I was too tired to do the things I had to do to get the house ready for Josiah's "friend party" today.
The whole house fills up with the sounds of laughter and talking and family and life and . . . friendship. Dishes rattle and silverware clinks and clanks. Children laugh, run, get under your feet . . . and you smile. Friends share stories, tell jokes, remember when, laugh out loud . . . their voices becoming part of the space where you are, maybe forever. If you press your ear up to the wall another day, can you hear them again? . . . the conversations, the words, the hearts . . . ? I like to think they live on in the walls, and that is the essence of what makes your house a home. That the happy words bounce around the place. A place to gather. Friends and memories. To mingle lives. Holy work. A sanctuary.
So, I sit in silence now.
But I can still hear the voices of the afternoon. Not in the walls. But in my head. My heart.
These moments . . .days . . . of beauty and grace, are what our lives are built on.
A wonderful life.
I face another busy week.
Busier than this last one, even.
The thought of it makes me let out a sigh into the stillness.
My heart sinks a little.
Why can't we just live in this marvelous today for a bit longer?
Why can't this late night stillness linger . . . last for days . . . stretch out and on and on . . .with no agenda but to enfold this house and my sleeping boys and me posting here?
It will not.
It can not.
There is more ahead . . . glimmers of the beauty, the grace, yet to be lived.