image painted in Waterlogue
At the end of the day, I put boxing gloves on and battle the alarming sense of urgency that ushers in with the dinnertime rush, the washing of dishes and babe, and the last books and snippets of conversation before sleep beckons.
Once the bang of the gun of early evening sounds we are off with a whoosh…
Evening hours are frenetic but some days in the mellow of the late afternoon and early evening when the sun casts its first goodbyes, I try to do one very important thing:
Just as one holds up a conch shell to the ear, I try to hold up the day and listen.
If I just pause over the stew, so to speak, I’m more in tune than either my-not-yet-awake-mama-needs-her coffee or hit-the-pillow-dreaming-of-coffee state.
This time is perhaps when my soul has tasted enough of the day but not enough to close it.
I listen, watch, breathe in the salty and the sweet moments from the day.
I hold the day.
Sometimes the “hold” brings up happy thoughts from the day, a funny story about the resident 5-year old, a photograph snapped…
Beauty shows up in the edges of the day; our highs and lows, passing thoughts, and reflections become subtle hues — soft strokes of grace amidst the ho-hum gray of the mundane and hard knocks of life.
How have you experienced grace today? Do you have a particular time you like to “hold the day”?