To Listen

First monday of summer vacation and she’s down the stairs at 6 and I find her wrapped up in the big chair playing her pet game on my phone.  She’s my sleep in girl, but with her first summer freedom she’s up and I can’t help but wonder why.  I smile and trace my fingers down her arm and across her back.

Little boy comes down an hour later all bare-chested from the nights heat and even though he’s gotten so big somehow my 5’2″ frame can still cocoon him and I bury my face in his neck and we breath still.

The Creator sends the sun up orange and it unabashedly throws its color across my wall with a bold good morning and I know it’s going to be another hot day.  The garden calls as it does every day with its pushy, relentless threat to let weeds become its master and I sigh a little and try to hurry through mornings tasks to get out there before the heat throws its own challenges my way.

I pause to give thanks.  I pause to ask for strength, patience, clear thought for what I am about to do.

Today I begin a new line of stitching on the fabric that forms this family.  A new rhythm to how we move about a day in this life.  This being wholly, intentionally together.  Taking these small images of God and purposefully guiding their steps to the character of who they are and who they are fashioned after.

This Holy voice that has been speaking, ever so quietly, to my inner most parts and moving, guiding me down a less trodden path.  A path where we’re reading, reciting, drawing, learning, cooking, and cleaning up what we’ve done then spilling outdoors to dig in the soil of us, listening to the sounds of what He’s created.

I pause, and I listen for that pure voice and know that if I let it go silent this thread will unravel…

And so I listen.

In pure search,


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