a night off

Four twenty found me bounding out of the office, squinting in the bright sunshine and loving the spring weather that took two months too long to arrive. By 4:35 I was making my way down the trails by the Minnesota river, my too-small bike--a hand-me-down--bouncing along the packed dirt and over exposed tree roots. It felt so good to be out. At first I had my headphones in, but soon enough I took them out, finding that the sounds of nature were the best soundtrack to a spring bike ride.

I've been working too much lately, and have had little time for physical activity. This was my first night in 7 days that I hadn't worked my second job. I'd forgotten what an evening off looks like. It looks like a trail ride by the river, weaving through trees at speeds my mother wouldn't approve of. It looks like heating up leftovers from Easter for dinner (because who wants to cook on their first night off?). It looks like doing laundry… because it had to get done. It looks like a quiet house, open windows, and gentle breezes as I actually have time to think, pray, and consider the purpose of my life in the stillness.

And that's where you find me, sitting at my kitchen table, pondering what my life is to be about. Pray that I find answers. In the meantime, I think I'll eat some apple pie and ice cream. Because it's my night off.

days

I wonder if the neighbors can hear me in the morning. Lately, between the time my husband leaves for work and when I do (usually about 20 minutes), I’ve been turning my house into a concert hall for… well, mostly for Josh Garrels. I’ll turn the speakers up loud, hit shuffle, and continue my morning routine while Josh and I praise the Lord together. It’s exhilarating. It’s enthusiasm-building. It helps prepare me for whatever I will face in the day to come.

Afternoons are mostly a drag. By two or three I’m tired of staring at a computer screen, feeling my brain cells dissipating before my eyes (or at least it feels like it; and no, I’m not being dramatic).  Pleasant afternoons in the office are afternoons when I feel full of purpose—like if I weren’t there some very important work would go undone. That doesn’t happen often, but God calls us to remain faithful in the little things, not just when we feel like we’re changing the world.

I spend my evenings laughing with my older friends—all of whom are probably about 50 years my senior. In other words, I’m a waitress at an assisted living home—and I love it. What’s not to enjoy about hearing Harold tell you how the food would be ‘back on the farm,’ or watching Bill—who used to play for the MN Vikings—crack a wry, rare smile when he finds himself funny? The ladies will comment on my beautiful skin: ‘like peaches and cream,’ they’ll say, and I’ll scold them when they try to convince me that because they are wrinkled and grey they are not beautiful anymore. “What do you mean you’re not beautiful? Of course you are. Look, you’re still smiling, which tells me that you’ve not let the pressures and stresses of life make you bitter. That is beautiful.” Some argue, some look at me with gratefulness in their eyes.

All day, Josh Garrels has been in my head, which means all day I’ve been unintentionally singing to the Lord. I like it when thoughts of Jesus get stuck in my head without me trying. ;) My husband and I will turn in together, as I love, and tomorrow will be the same, only so much different. I am blessed.