And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear. What we need is here. Poet Wendell Berry “What We Need is Here”
I wake wondering where I am. The dog at my feet, my husband breathing slowly, and the hum of the air purifier remind me. I’m here in my home. In the house my children left what seems so long ago. It isn’t that long but long enough for me to wonder if what I have here is what I need or want.
Summertime goes by so quickly. Much like wind, it blows through each day with little time to rest. The premonition of summer begins with April sprinkling hope of new life revealed in creation. May promises outdoor recreation. As I reach the month of June, my hearts look forward to meeting friends on my patio on a long warm evening. And sitting at the park along the lakeshore listening as a duet strum on their guitars singing gently what is familiar and calming, much like “Sounds of Silence” from Simon and Garfunkel. Summer brings me books to read on the beach- the ones I like to call “brain candy”. Ann Tyler’s latest book always bringing to life relationships and predictable dilemmas give delight and leave me satisfied. Summer is noticing fireflies and quiet laughter from neighbors down the street as they muse around their fire.
I want to enjoy the moments of this summer. Moments I hope for every summer and somehow miss. I don’t ask the question, “What happened to summer?” Every summer. In every season. It all goes by fast.
Not so long ago, summers included a week of vacation with my children. For many years we took our pop-up camper to rolling hills of Lanesboro in Southern Minnesota. There was always something to fix on the camper before venturing out. The time between finding the problem to solving held the potential for cursing and my job was to keep everyone out of earshot.
The week in camp was predictably unpredictable and delightful with breakfast sometimes Frosted Flakes or Captain Crunch or bacon and eggs, meals they didn’t get time except on vacation. The daily long bike rides with Grette in the lead, came with the intention of eating at a restaurant that supplied burgers and French fries. The evening included playing charades around the campfire with someone not wanting to play. Finally after we were each prepared for bed, we watched a movie on the 10-inch DVD player.
As the responsibilities of raising children has dropped off, there was time and space for everything else to move in. Time to notice the uncomfortable and unease of not knowing myself. What is my purpose? What will stay with me? What do I want? More importantly, what do I need?
I know the quieting of the house now. I know I need small moments in that space to let my heart settle. Instead of filling up days with distractions find myself on that patio on a long warm summer evening journaling about what is and what will be. Listening to new music while holding my husband’s hand who might be experiencing the same loss in his own way. Walk on a beach with a friend sharing what is truly on our hearts.
I want to acknowledge and understand all that is uncomfortable and misplaced in my soul. To rest fully in it, right here. To let go to what is no longer necessary. Empty nesting and upheaval can bring about abundance.
Out my window the sky paints a new picture, the cardinal claim’s morning and the grey catbird says my name and I am reminded what I need is here.
