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| My front porch in the evening |
As I sit on the counter and look over the living room, I smile.
Outside the window, the little green shoots pushing out of the end of the branches are creating a delightful fuzzy halo on the trees outside.
There is a warm earthy scent creeping in from my Mom's open window and trailing behind everyone who comes in the door. It's permeating the air, rising up from the ground as the sun warms into soil, rousing the stiff ache of winter.
The way the sun drifts through the front windows as it lazily drops behind the mountains off the front porch, making the halo on the trees glow.
I sit and soak it in. Deep inside me something is stirring. The feeling that I am nearing the time to chuck my hectic and changing schedule out the window. A time is coming for me to dive into the most draining, sleepless, and exciting vacation I've ever loved. The only summers I really distinctly remember, because every moment is so incredibly worth it.
Summer.
I'm waiting in peace, through these last few weeks of hectic-ness. I am diving head-on into my last moments juggling three jobs and soaking in every conversation, every experience, every laugh, every story, every annoyance, every wrench in the plan. But, always in the back of my head, I am here, sitting on this counter, in perfect contentment.
I am sitting and waiting for the brilliant wave of long days, short nights, laughter, tears, sweltering sun and magnificent stars.
I am sitting and waiting for the earth shaking weight of God's glory, revealed in every way, from the small moments to grand landscapes.
I am sitting and waiting for the drenching downpour of love that leaves my heart so full and heavy, that I wonder how I retain the ability to move, let alone express even a fraction of it.
I am sitting and waiting on God...for His next move.
I am sitting and thankful that the next move looks like camp.
