The screen door doesn’t fit in its casing when it swells with November rain, so it slacks open. Every minute, every thirty seconds, a change in air catches the door, and it taps. Wooden door against porch railing. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
Normally, repetitious sounds rattle my nerves, but this morning, I find it comforting — this drum beat refrain like a heartbeat.
A vase of white-centered mums sit in front of me in a gaping-mouthed vase. Orange bread crumbs and mandarin orange strings from this morning’s breakfast sit in a happy pile next to me, gathered together, but not tossed.
Outside the crows caw across hundred year old trees. Overhead the dining room chandelier buzzes like it always does.
I’m not just light. I’m electricity. Don’t you see? Don’t you hear?
I press laptop keys with slightly too long fingernails, and the glasses of water left this morning on the dining room table dance.
I do not check my phone. I do not play music. I simply notice. I am alive.
Life pulses with good work and amble, abide and distract, joyful discovery and cloudy mystery, some steps forward and some more back.
I am content, and I am wanting. I am dreaming, and I am reacting. I am thankful, and I am seeking.
I recognize my need. I recognize my gifts. How they share the same pool, breathe the same air. How they live side by side.
Like me and the crumbs. Like the smiling mums and the slamming screen.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
![Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: "And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart." The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!](https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/t51.2885-15/s320x320/e35/17934124_1877271335863004_8139172358331039744_n.jpg "Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: \"And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart.\" The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!")
Love to hear your voice and the way you craft words to explain and enlighten the world that is always available to us….if only we stop to notice…thanks you for drawing us all in.
xoxox
I share Angela’s sentiments :)
Beautiful Sis.
Beautiful post Ashley.
I am really going over your last lines of: “I am content, wanting, dreaming, reacting, thankful… How my needs and my gifts are in the same pool of space”. I wrestle daily with trying to sift and understand everything so I can proceed in the right way. This being and feeling many things that seem conflicting but are perfectly at ease with Christ is just where I am today. I read the second half of Romans 8 in The Message translation out loud with my husband this morning and wept. This post really validates those scriptures:The whole pangs of giving birth with hope and contentment as we wait. Read them over if you have chance.
Enjoy your weekend
&
Cheers!
Leah
This is a deeply poetic, alive and endearing piece of writing, Ashley. Profound on many levels, as are you. I love you, dear heart.