August 2nd

Yesterday while I was out mowing, I decided that’s it — I’m going to post something every single day and get my writing muscles working again.

And now I’m laughing, because I didn’t even last one day into August.

Does anyone else have amazingly grand productive thoughts while showering or mowing or sitting and nursing the baby? You think, look how happy everyone is. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll just slip out and do XYZ. How hard can it be?

I’m trying to just laugh.

And so the summer has slipped by. Day after day of living, woven into the fabric of our lives and into who we’re becoming.

One sentence for each month I’ve missed, and a photo, for brevity’s sake:

June was a month with Daddy — 30 wonderfully full and rich days off from work!

July was quintessential summer, with swim lessons and parades and friends and even a few nights with the Sinclair clan at my parents’ house.

My life lessons have, I’m sure, been many. Mostly feeling the Holy Spirit pry my fingers off [what seems like] the last little bit of control I’ve tried to maintain. Slowly He’s brought me to waters too deep for me to stand, and I’m having to trust that He’ll hold me. It’s messier and crazier and my brain is zanier than what I think should be — but then, is it? Maybe that’s just me, standing by and panicking a bit because I’m not in charge. Not that I would ever do that.

What I know is this: I have a Shepherd who promises to lead me, and these little lambs are the apple of His eye. That is a good place to be.

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