but what’s now is a newborn chance to relish. it’s as if our hearts have melted toward a common purpose: we are forging into the unknown. i’ve gotten quite skilled at stopping time, hitting the pause, relishing the breadth and depth: the way the light scatters across my wide-planked kitchen floor, beholding the scarlet flash as papa cardinal settles into the branches just beyond my kitchen door, absorbing the metronome of the schoolhouse clock’s tick and tock, the soft tickle of my little one’s curls against my cheek when he climbs in bed - still - for one last cuddle before i drift into slumber.īut in the past week, as my mama and i have stepped into this new corridor of time and holiness, i’ve noticed something new: it’s as if veils have been lifted, and conversation is purer than it’s often been. in so many ways i’ve taught myself to live in a way that holds most frames of life up to the light. and the notch that matters most around here is the devotion to paying attention. I begin this year, and this particular season of life, with deepest thanks for all that’s conspired to take it up a notch.
the only things we care to breathe in today are cold air, wide-open sky, and the sound of our boots crunching dry prairie grasses.īut before we zip the triple-thick parkas and slide into the fattest mittens money can’t buy, it’s the hour of bowing our heads and unfurling gratitude. we’re decidedly not interested in all things consumer-esque. it’s take-to-the-woods day here at our house. Any minute now, we’ll be lacing up our hiking boots.