Published at Family Christian.
I finish my spicy pickles, the juice now running unobstructed across my empty paper plate. I feel the breeze as I take a sip of my limoncello La Croix (best flavor ever). I put my bare feet up on the wicker loveseat, the full span of which I’ve claimed shamelessly, and take in the backyard, finally ready for summer. Damp towels line the railing of the deck. Crumbs from the breakfast my rising college sophomore grilled outside with his friends dot the table. The end of school is just two days away. Summer’s call is so close that my family can taste its reward for their diligence all these months.
Yet, I feel torn.
Said simply, I guess I feel torn between the unstructured and unstructured. Truthfully, I suppose I always have. Summer just exposes this struggle.
Summer brings an invitation that other seasons don’t. Remember those days of riding bikes with no hands and picking wildflowers by the road? Summer offers us that same slow healing now, here, in these very days, in these very weeks.
At the same time, the barrage of more laundry and the request for more snacks (oh, if you could hear the volume of my household when they’re all in the kitchen) feels like a quickening, not a slowing. The season of slowing also prompts a ramp-up.
On any given summer day, depending on the state of my house and my heart, I struggle to piece together a rhythm that honors the work and the musts while also balancing my desire to savor the playful popsicle days and soul-replenishing slowing. The absence of routine means figuring out when to play and when to work, and maybe also holding space to tend my soul along the way.
So, as we begin this season, I’m inviting you to join me in seeking the slowness of summer to experience its blessing. Let’s breathe it in together. This summer, may we give ourselves space to move fluidly between the work, the play, and the soul care.
Read the rest at Family Christian.
Photo credit: Wix Media.
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