She insists on holding my necklace. ‘It is the colours and its bewdiful’, she says. And that is enough to make her stretch her hands out and grab the beads. She holds them carefully in her tiny, pudgy hands.
It is all the colours, all the important colours. Pale green, bright coral, deep dark blue, peach and grey. It is my favorite necklace. It is her favorite necklace.
New books arrived today. Books to point me in the right direction, to lift my head and hold my hand.
Books on art and finding God in the ordinary.
I have lost the art of seeing God in the everyday. The quiet prayers that come when you are sure of his presence in the supermarket and in the kitchen. I miss those moments. For so long life has been about scratching at the surface and choosing to keep digging down, beyond the layers and the light, in the dirt and murkiness of life and doubt.
It does not come naturally to me. I have to work at taking notice.
By our back door there is a horrible patch of dirt that we cannot convince anything to grow in. My last ditch effort involved nothing more than a bag of soil, a box of grass seed and a thoughtless prayer. Weeks passed. And then yesterday the first tentative and pioneering blades raised their heads. Today there are many more and that barren, dusty patch is tinged with green and life. It makes me unreasonably happy.
I am learning to listen to my breath and my wordless prayers. I think there is goodness to be found when quietness and curiosity collide. My timid heart is learning to look up, where it can see beauty and grace with ease. I am leaning into to where light is common and the shadows have receded. I am hopeful and I am cautious. I want to learn. I want to know the secrets found in setting suns and changing seasons. My curious and timid heart is ready for this.
(All the posts from this series can be found here. Thanks for reading along. x)