one last perfect Saturday.

The season of quiet is upon my family.  The usual noise is happening, of course.  Mabel's cry is jaw dropping and it'snot as if the kids' outside voices inside do not make me squeal in delight each time I hear them shouting at one another. But what I mean by quiet is that the noise we're making is our own.
Simple, delicate noise.

 This weekend delivered 2 days of warmth combined with wicked wind.  As early as my feet hit the morning floor, the windows were strewn open and my children were beckoned outside.

 I spent time looking at them, watching them play.  I listened to their laughter and the excitement that they shared, knowing this may be our last warm day for a very long time.  

 It was like our Saturday was autumn's one last beautiful kiss.  She wrapped her arms around us, squeezed tightly, gave me butterflies and then....just like that...

she was gone.

 Soon we will say goodbye to Mr. Sun, only to peer at him longingly through the toy room window.  I will watch as birds come and go and snow falls gracefully.  As winter pours into the crevices where summer memories were made, I pray that my spirit will be stronger than it has been in years past. 

 I looked around and thought about our beautiful, perfect summer.  Summer freed me from deep grief.  Summer delivered answers for our family. Summer was full of loud laughing, beach going, van dancing and late night games of good old fashioned tag in the front yard.

So with Saturday's last few moments of hope, I watched our children closely and breathed in the summer smells.  I caught glimpses of autumn leaves mimicking the color of summer's sun and I praised God for the changing of seasons.  

 Change is always good.  It's almost always hard but I believe if we let it move us, 

it's always beneficial.  There is something to be said about those who stay stagnant.  I have prayed for as long as I have known how to do so that God would never let me stay the same in my walk with Him.
Take me deeper, change my thinking, help me grow.

 I pray the same things over these kids every day.  I hope that God will not let their hearts remain steady.  And this weekend it was as if He used the sky, the leaves, the light and the leaves to affirm to me, "I will always change them..."

 The seasons tell a story and ours is buried deep in the thick of it. 

Winter is long, hard, lonely and dark.  

Spring breaks forth a hope, renewing, refreshing.

Summer allows our hearts to be free, warm.

Autumn greets us with a slowing.  Steadily preparing us for months to come. 

 Our story is topped with pig tails, suckers, swings and smiles.  Our story is rooted with change and newness.  Our story is overwhelmed with the mercy of a God who is so far beyond the scope of our thinking.   

 I listened closely as my children sang songs of worship to the God that they already love.  I listened as they poured their hearts into the words they were making fit together and I literally ached in the knowing that although they are growing quickly physically, they are growing much deeper and much faster spiritually.  

 I watched them play.

I watched them be little.

 Although the change is coming and the seasons are shifting, I don't want to forget them right now.  Not in these little moments of childhood that are important and fleeting. 

 So they swung.  And jumped.  And ran. And sang.  And played.  And ate.  And laughed.

All Saturday.

 And I?

I listened. Breathed deeply.  Caressed gently. Escaped mentally.  Engaged purposefully.

Last week was rough and shaky for me but Saturday topped off my figurative coffee cup with a whole lot of cream and sugar.  I'm bearing down and holding on tight for the winter days that are coming and the change that will sweep in with them.  

Goodbye Saturday.

Until we meet again...