Beauty in the Commonplace

There's a fresh hydrangea cutting on my nightstand, mexican sunflowers from my great-grandma right outside my window, my "rescue plant" is putting out new shoots and leaves.

I come home and baby Philip greets me with a double handed wave and asks to for me to take him in my arms, my bird hops on my finger to eat a treat I offer him, I snuggle down to read another chapter of our book to the little guys.

I've got a to-be-read list longer than my arm. I've got a to-do list that grows as often as it shrinks. I went back to work earlier than expected after we got back from our trip.

With all of it, I'm *living* life. And I'm *loving* it.

-----

Our trip to SC was wonderful. We stayed with my mom's parents; saw our aunts and our cousins. Visited Daddy's family. Had lunch with some friends from our SC home church on Saturday, and I got to stop in for a fast, wonderful 15 minute visit to see my friend and her babies, when we thought we wouldn't even get that. Stopped by the Chick-fil-a I used to work at. Went to church on Sunday, and stayed for the fellowship meal afterwards.

There aren't words to really describe it. If you don't know what it's like to live away from home, you can't picture it. And if you do, you don't need to be told. There were so many moments that would have made the whole trip worth it by themselves.

Worshipping again with a group of fellow believers. Singing those beautiful hymns, hearing the word preached without watching from a screen, all the words of encouragement and people offering to help shoulder any load.

Watching the deer in the back yard with my Granny. Ice cream and fireflies and laughter.

Staying with my mom's family and getting to catch up with them. Cousins playing together, my aunt and I catching up, Grandma going through scrapbooks with my little siblings just like she did with me years ago.

But I didn't get those moments by themselves, I got them all together. Blessing upon blessing.

It all amounted to one gift... coming home. Realizing that we might have to pack a lot into each day, because we only had a week; but having stayed so connected that even the new people at church felt like old friends. Feeling like it was the most natural thing in the world to run in and drop some stuff off at my friends house, give hugs and run, because that's what you do at home. Seeing things I've only heard about in the past 11 months, hugging family and friends so tight, realizing that it doesn't *feel* like a year since I saw them, because distance hasn't separated us.

You can feel the difference as soon as you cross the state border, it's marked. South Carolina may not be the prettiest place on earth. Or the most exciting. It may be down right uninviting for some people. But to those of us who know it as home, even it's simplicity feels so comforting.

I was afraid the visit would stir up feelings of unrest, a wild desire to get back *now*. But, in fact, I think it did the opposite. It showed me that after a year, nothing has changed. I haven't lost anything I had, it's just a little further away. If I can make it one year - and such a hard year, at that- and still feel this way when I come back, I can make it another year just fine. And, if need be, another, for as many as it takes. Going back didn't make my desire to go home hurt worse, it brought comfort that it would wait for me until God is done with me here.

He's got me working with the most amazing little girl and her family, in my dream job, that came about in the most beautiful way possible. My family is here, and we can love and care for each other, our pets, and our plants just as well here as anywhere else. Technology means that we haven't lost our friends to the distance - some have actually become even closer. Covid restrictions loosening means we may be able to find a local body of likeminded believers again to become our home away from home in the near future. I've got projects and interests to keep me as busy as I want. Yes, I can be happy and useful here.

-----

And I still have dreams. That is huge.

Back last September, I felt like every single dream I'd ever had, was stripped away within a six weeks time. February, I started to see that some of the dreams weren't taken, but altered to be better than I had dared hope in a fallen world. I was full of trust in God's plan, awe at what God had done; but not much hope for what He would do in the future.

Then May threw a curve ball at our family, and I realized I hadn't *actually* lost every dream back in September. Because I was losing another. One I would have thought unalterable. And the grief was shattering.

But the Lord was gracious, and He turned that pain around, too. The grief was real, but when it was over, when I came through the other side and was given that joy back, it also gave me something else; it gave me my hope back.

I haven't dared hope since September. I've been able to say "I *can be* content for now, and I trust God's plan."

With our trip home, and the final turning around of this summer's pain, and feeling that comfort of the Lord's shower of blessings, I feel as if I am able to say "I *am* content, and I am hopeful for what God is working out."

It's the most beautiful thing.

-----

Two other things I feel have changed my perspective in the past two weeks, arriving at just the time that I was ready to embrace and make full, lasting use out of them; I read this book, "Seasons of Waiting" at the recommendation of a friend. I'll try to share some real thoughts later, but for now, suffice it to say that you need to read this book. The purpose of waiting itself seems so hopeful reading this book. And the permission, given from a gospel viewpoint, to wait with *all your heart* without guilt is so comforting.

And for the first time in probably 5 years... well, I woke up one morning for work after only 4.5 hours of sleep, and thought to myself, "wait, is this how normal people wake up?" I do not recommend only 4.5 hours of sleep, but it made the contrast of how I felt even more obvious. There have been so many times over the past few years that I had to force myself to get from my bed to the couch after 9 hours of sleep. To wake up refreshed and see the day full of possibility and things to do? For days on end?! I forgot what that felt like. I've made intentional changes to get here, and need to make more. But the fact is, I've seen that there is a manageable plan for this that *doesn't* just involve pushing myself to be less "lazy" (and then needing even more rest afterwards), and that's pretty exciting.

-----

All in all... yes, I am living life to the fullest. And I am loving every minute of it, even if life is not picture perfect. Even in the broken - and maybe because of the broken - we have trust, hope, dreams, beauty in the common place, written out in a plan far above our own sights by a Father who delights to bless His children for His glory.

Rejoicing,
Ambrielle