In

 Fog clouds over the mountain as I breathe in and out  Nature brings me back every time.  I wonder when the natural world will cease to amaze me. Now the rain joins in and I’m in a blissful trance. The Earth just leaves me in a place where I’m happy and peaceful.  The quiet drops lull me into meditation where I’m one with my surroundings  it’s one  I’m happy to be in  

Fantasy

 My greatest win is admitting imperfection. To let you see me fail. To see me succeed. Perservering and conquering the mountain that is my mind. In nature, I’m finding creation to be the only measuring stick I choose to have. The sweat that coats every part is wholly divine. My body is in harmony. I feel so small. Never more alive. Sought the world to soothe me. It doesn’t work. The grandiosity of my surroundings is enough to bring me to my knees even as I’m rooted. 

The only thing I’ve ever needed was the one thing I took for granted. Time. Riding with an eight year listening to the pop star du jour was something I won’t forget. The music choice was not my favorite. It made her happy. I leaned into her happiness, it was enough to give me some of my own. 

Learning to let it be. Smile and be grateful for what is yours. Your reality may be someone’s fantasy. 

Birthday

 Joy

Is a birthday 

I love

To celebrate 

Happy birthday 

Mom

Ice cold

 Taking  a walk down memory lane dancing to some Sam Hunt. Finding the groove with two left feet is still fun. Activating the joy within me. Twirling through the fields of dandelions. Singing at the top of my lungs. Letting fear and anxiety go with every move. Letting the sights and sounds be my mate. Putting on some old muddy boots. Reveling in the clay mask I’ve made. The winds of time stand still for no one, but in that moment, it feels infinite. Nature and I are one in tranquility. I’m grounded to the earth. Never more sure of who I am. In this moment, I search for the mustard seed. The anger in me dissipates as I lose myself in Your embrace. The bear hugs, the sweetest kisses and when you see me, you stare in amazement. That You made me. That I’ve chosen You. That I’m nothing without you. That I’m lost without you. I’m wholly dependent on You. 

I’ve come to the end of self. That’s why I amble around the local Tractor Supply. I look to buy a water through to sit and soak in. I need to be one with my pets. Shivering in the cold brings a clarity I couldn’t locate. I submerge myself in the ice and sigh. Peace is a muddy boot, a sports bra and Soffe short covered in ice cubes from the freezer and cold water from a hose. 

I dream of Chanel and a strand of pearls on a yacht in the Mediterranean, and yet the cows and green grass in my own backyard is what brings me back to life. What does that say. The dreams fuel me to continue, but my reality centers me. 

Ping pong

 Ping pong, ding dong. My own little reverie taking place on the table. Andrew is goading me into pretending I’m a professional. A swing and a miss. A thud as the body hits the table with force. His eleven year old self is laughing uproariously with glee at my lack of skill. I go round the table picking sides to better my odds. Nothing does the trick. The little rascal still laughs, falling to the floor in hysterics. My foibles must be something to behold. 

I give it back and up the stakes. Can he do better?  I know this isn’t a bet to make or take. I do it anyway. Anything to shut him up. Funny thing is, the kid has some skill or maybe just the will to prove me wrong. Those prepubescent preteens find any need for competition and I gave him the opportunity for showmanship. 

The kid is now in the zone ready to pretend to be the professional. Paddle to ball, eye to ball ready for action. He smokes an ace. I’m ready to shake my head as it is done over an over again. Blows on his fingers, and goes at it again. I tell him to take it easy on me as the wise elder. He retorts: Not so wise now, really. Got to give it to the cocky kid. He’s right. I hate when I’m wrong. Stinks being shown how it’s done. 

I’m stupid enough not to concede defeat. Must be a glutton for punishment. I attempt another go at it. I now make contact with the ball, but it slams into the net. Throwing rackets, er paddles and screaming “you can’t be serious” come to mind. Just a game. Muttering to self. Toweling off. Blaming sweaty palms for lackluster play is the next excuse. Yet I forget my antics are being mimicked by said chap smirking in bemusement. 

Dang!  Really this is what my embarrassment looks like. Oh my. And now the old lady just chalks it up and laughs at self remembering that life is made up of moments we would like to forget, but never do. I admit defeat. Admitting I’m no McEnroe. Then the boy says who is that?  Now I laugh hysterically. 

Oh wow. Now I know I’m old. Oh well. C’est la vie. 

View

 Good morning from a rainy South Carolina where the soul wakes up to worship. The grass grows, the cows sing as I sit with steaming coffee. The chickens peck insects and scurry for scraps. My little composters. The old man that is my dog lazily comes to my lap. I rub behind his ears as he purrs almost cat-like reveling in the attention. I look out at my own personal piece of earthly heaven, and I wonder how I could be so lucky. 

Blessed that my pasture looks like my own Augusta National. I feel like finding a driver and a golf ball. Let my backyard be a playground for frivolity. Dreams of a Woods-like follow through are in my mind, as swings are made, but not successful. Clearing the barbed wire now becomes my aim. Thirty minutes later, I amble along picking up the balls like the rocks of my childhood. The bucket these days is much lighter, but no more the better. The rocks buried in dry earth so difficult to extricate then provide motivation to seek joy in rolling in hay bales recalling the days of riding, the mustang, Jughead. 

Coming up for lunch is a reprieve for my aching muscles. Recreating the whims of a teenager leaves 40 year old bones yelling for an ice bath. A nice ham sandwich and Sun Chips with some unsweetened tea is just what I need. I consider an audiobook to keep me company, but wondering if silence is the answer. The only soundtrack is chewing and swallowing. I wonder if this is what peace feels like. No need for noise to be my only companion. 

In the farmland that is mine, I’m finding completion. Completion in contentment. I still dream of the South of France in the lavender fields, the Parisian je ne sais quoi, or the seascapes of Capri, but right now my view is a familiar one, but beautiful nonetheless. 

Describe your current view. 

Jesus

 Today I realize a few things. 

God doesn’t forget the dreams of the thirteen year old you. At forty, I’m seeing that. 

This project will gut me. I will be broken down and built back up. Pray for courage. Going to need it more than I can say. 

Please grant me grace as I proceed. 

What needs doing

Isn’t always easy

But easy

Never brought

Peace

Those five letters

The word

Has eluded me

The son

Will restore

Jesus