A simple morning, a simple candlelight, a simple cup (inherited from my Granddaddy), and a long, but simple, letter to Dad.
Simplicity is constantly the cry of my heart. It’s not because I don’t like to have things or because I don’t want things, but because I want to want less of this world. I don’t want to get so tied to what is fleeting that I can’t readily let it all go the instant my Bridegroom calls. I don’t want to accumulate so much that I can’t see the gifts God is giving me. I don’t want to crowd my life in a way that I can’t hear His whisper.
What I do want is to live a life that shows what is lasting. I want to enjoy the beauty God has placed me in the midst of without having to clean up my mess to see it. I want to hear the silence of the early morning, to hear myself breath my prayers, to hear the pages of my Bible turn, and more importantly to hear what He speaks to me through those Words. I want to see the gentle, low lights that I allow in the darkness of the early morning. I want to smile when I see the sun rise, the leaf blow, the frost sparkle. I want to sit in contentment with my little boys as they eat, draw, play blocks, and read…even when the dishes are piled on the counter and not clean. I want to make time each day to pull every child onto my lap and say “I love you.” I want to have surreal moments when, in the midst of lively children, I stand back, look around house and home and family, and go, “I love my life!”