The whir of the refrigerator fills the white-walled space with noise. I am sitting alone in our new home, a luxury few and far between at this phase of my life (one filled with small fingerprints echoing throughout my home).
From my nestled space on the couch, I witness the green of oak swaying in choking-hot summer breeze. The fallen brothers of the living leaves lie golden on the dirt below, reminding me that all things are temporary. In this tree, I see the extended hand of God, asking me to sit awhile, to not turn my face from Him.
I don’t really understand God. I don’t understand why his presence would show me the threads of beauty woven throughout my world; a sorrowful Celtic violin, a hummingbird on my porch, a clench of my belly reminding me I am alive, air thick with heat.
I’m learning that I don’t have to understand the why; I simply have to allow for the love of it to impress upon me a thrumming awe that moves beyond expression.
I sit and soak-in the tender billowing of a sun-shade, full of questions, bubbling at the tip of my tongue. For now I will hold them in, as I cherish what is good.
“Let love be sincere; hate what is evil, hold on to what is good.” Romans 12:9 (NABRE)
Jess and The Fiat 