Stillness.

Tonight I'm enjoying the sounds of stillness on my back porch. 

The mama bird is feeding her hungry babies in the tree right next to me.  

Our neighbors down the way are having what sounds to be like a fun evening with friends.  

Their laughter floats across the river. 

The crickets are singing their sweet evening songs. 

The river quietly laps on the bulkhead as the boats are heading home.  

The breeze rustles the trees and the wind chimes--making it feel more like October and less like May.  

I have twinkly lights illuminating my back porch because I just can't quit on you, Christmas.  

Last week was terribly busy and full of things that made my head and heart hurt.  

I spent a lot of time this past week dealing with stories that didn't belong to me and made decisions based on the evidence presented in the court room.  I watched a teenager, old beyond her years, owning her stories of heartbreak.  I wanted to know why no one validated nor affirmed her in a way that would let her know that she was loved.   Why didn't anyone tell her that the back seat of a man's car was no place for a girl?  

Why didn't anyone tell her that she was worth more?  

My arms ached for my own children and the innate need to protect them from this scary thing called life.  And the little girl in me wanted to curl up and hide, too, because sometimes life just gets a little too big, too loud, too fast, and too much.

But afterwards, the little things didn't bother me so much.  My simple life suddenly seemed magical and wonderful.  The big issues and complaints I have are child's play compared to what I heard this week in the courtroom.  

My eyes have opened to the blessings of a less-than-perfect, but overwhelmingly normal life. 

And it doesn't get much better than this.  

Have a wonderful week, friends. xoxxo