June is summer beginning, more hours of light that makes a day spread out like a road trip. Going to bed while the sun shines becomes normal. And waking before the birds is a challenge indeed.
- Rising even earlier while it is still dark just to hear the first bird song.
- The smell of fresh-cut grass, moist musky soil, and fragrance of flowers.
- Birds in happy flight, finding nests in trees, seeing babies reaching scrawny necks for mamma’s offering.
- Trying to keep my fingernails clean even though I wear my garden gloves.
- Hot, humid afternoons when a cool house becomes a reason to give thanks during prayer time.
- Rainy days that give me permission to stay indoors, the contentedness of being home.
- Maisie panting on a short, slow-paced walk as the sun blazes, and me looking for the shade along the path.
- Wild rabbits in the yard taunting her because they know she can’t get to them.
- Brilliant day lilies in amazing colors and variety, remembrance of the friend who shared them with me.
- Unexpected blossoms springing up where they want to.
- Queen Anne’s lace in landscape because one man’s weed is this woman’s flower.
- Mowing machines running almost daily here or there.
- Children’s voices at play, motor bikes zooming on our lane, families sitting under trees and on porches.
- Fireworks exploding late at night, even though it’s not July yet.
- Baking sour dough bread and sharing it, because it’s what I can offer to those who are hurting, hoping it expresses my love.
- Having a month of no piano lessons with relaxing evenings, but now beginning to anticipate my students’ return with plans for beautiful music.
- Remembering my dad on Father’s day, and celebrating my daughter-in-love with a birthday box carried by postal service.
- Forgetting to make plans for my own Sweet William and son on Father’s Day and them graciously forgiving me.
- Watching fireflies twinkling in the night sky through the bedroom blinds when all is still.
- Time slowing on these long, hot days of summer.
I’ve enjoyed library books and movies this month in the coolness of the house after hot work in the sun. Sweet William and I saw the movie, I Can Only Imagine, for the first time this week. It was a moving story. I also read the book by Bart Millard, by the same title, and of course, the details of his life are more fully disclosed in the written word. A movie can’t give the full, or even an accurate, picture. If you want to really know the miracle of Millard’s life and God’s redemption story, I encourage you to read the book.
Sweet William and I attended a class at our library and learned to make paracord bracelets. His is orange and mine is blue. We are now in the process of making more in a variety of colors. Learning new things is so good for our brains. Plus we can wear almost 10 feet of strong cord around our wrists just in case there’s an emergency, whatever that might be.
I’ve relaxed this month, sometimes even feeling lazy. That goes against my nature, but I’m learning it isn’t necessary for me to be ever-moving and always productive. Rest is good.
The highlight of every month is the time spent with people. I track it in my bullet journal because this is the true measure of our lives. We’ve sat for long hours in hospital rooms, waiting for words that would offer hope. We attended funeral homes where we wept with those weeping, shared their grief and hopefully helped shoulder their burdens.
The time we gathered at our kitchen table with our people, the times I met someone at Panera Bread or Starbucks and was a gentle listener, the time spent with friends and loved ones, no matter where it is, is the most precious time of all.
Because time is the gift we give. Listening and being present are how we love. Each month. Every month. Until our days on earth are no more.