My mother wrote about the nature of July, and I certainly couldn’t say it any better. It starts out with flag-waving, kickball-playing, pie-in-the-sky hopes.
But those last two weeks sort of fizzled out, with me trying to figure out a plan each day, but mostly just pushing through till bedtime while fielding emergencies and everyday humdrum in the meantime. This summertime thing can really be my nemesis — me, of innate idealism and high expectations, who can’t help but try to measure productivity and purpose, floundering through days of loosey-goosey summer. I start to chafe for September, when I know what the goal is and what’s expected of me.
I had to laugh at this one. Someone snapped a picture of me at my best. Desperate moments call for desperate measures.
But Jesus doesn’t need September. His constant work in us doesn’t depend on chore charts. Isn’t that great?? And He doesn’t need magical summer afternoons to work His magic. In fact, it could (hypothetically) rain almost every day (just imagine with me), and He can still count the day a win!
I love that. It isn’t always magical. Sometimes it’s just putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes it’s doing what you ought to do because you ought to. It can look a lot like breath prayers and confessing dependance on a strength greater than your own. But you know what is magical? The way He appears, with gentle peace, with fresh joy, with quiet conviction, with water for a parched soul.
“Let us press on to know the Lord.
His going forth is as certain as the dawn;
And He will come to us like the rain,
Like the spring rain watering the earth.”
So much baseball.
Lymes and antibiotics. Thankful for catching it quickly.
Ballerina buns, every Wednesday.
An evening walk, a summertime gift.
Bookends who adore each other.
Amazon boxes are awesome.
A morning walk that was less exercise and more flower picking.
This baby doll.
Dinners that conclude with “run around the yard”.
Three Sunday morning princesses, one of whom will not stop reading. Ever.
Because sleeping with Mama chases all the bad dreams away.
Dinner for two.
“Mom, can you take a picture of us in age order?” (Someone didn’t cooperate.)
The late summer flowers beginning to take over.
A special wedding weekend.
Last July hurrah: a picnic lunch with plenty of cherries.
These photos are especially awesome, Fiona, and William making the catch. Then strong Jameson. So glad you got him treated.
The transposed photo, Fiona, your sister, Park Bros. “What”. My goodness – all was captured. And loved sleeping perfection too.