painted sky

Last night I walked into our laundry room and it was aglow. Pink. Like wearing red cellophane glasses. I’d just come from the kitchen where I could see the sky in front of our house darkening but had seen no hint of the colours radiating from the east.
I slung my camera around my neck and hurried outside. There, I was met with an explosion of pink, and beams of red as the sun sunk into the ocean. The sky was fairy floss pink against blue and I climbed our front wall to attempt to capture the colours of God’s masterpiece. 

I sat for a while on that wall, watching the colours and the light change. 
A gentle reminder that the hand that paints the sky is the same one who directs my steps. That I can lay down my striving, and my need for order and control and embrace the changing, painted colours of my life. There’s beauty in the mess. Order doesn’t equal perfection. 
Beds don’t have to be made before I can hug my baby, read a book with an eight year old or stop and listen with my whole heart to the cutest six year old in the world. 
Those things are my struggle. This sunset was the reminder of the grace available to stop struggling. 


storm chasing + agendas

I’ve been impatient lately.
I’d like to say I have a valid excuse, that our tiny humans have been too demanding; but the truth is that my impatience is generally because of my inability to lay down my own agenda. 
I thought I’d gotten the message a few months ago, when that revelation hit me.
Apparently not. My to-do list is always longer than my day, and I had lost the art of time management as I got drawn into the vortex of mindless Facebook scrolling again.

Today, as the sky darkened and the humidity rose I found myself with an afternoon free to check some of those to-do’s off the list.
The four year old had other plans.
“I know!”, she exclaimed as an epiphany struck, “Play dough!”
She could only be distracted with other things momentarily before recapping her urgency to make a new batch of blue play dough. 
I groaned inwardly took a deep breath and said, “Okay, lets make you some play dough”

Agenda dropped. Life laid down. 
Greater love has no one than this. 
And while we watched the storm roll in through the kitchen windows, and waited for the dough to cool, I thought about how amazing it would be to watch over the ocean.
So, that’s just what we did. I grabbed my camera off the bench as we exited, and left the windows open wide.

The raindrops were big and fat and we watched them fall into the glassy ocean.
It was warm, and we stayed and watched the dark clouds move in, and made a run for it just as the rain began properly.

Now, she sits with her blue play dough. I’m being coaxed over to play too.