John Mark McMillan – Death In His Grave
I have this feeling I’m running out of summer, having wafted by it without notice. I’m not sure where this feeling came from, because reality tells a different story.
There have been barbecues, bonfires and backyard nights watching fireflies blink across the gardens. Sunglasses and breeze in my hair as I drive. Ice cream sundaes, iced coffee, iced tea and ice cold beers – all on the front porch. There was an evening at the beach, a taco dinner on the farm, and all the festivals in between. I’ve been sun burnt, had wobbly legs after bike riding, left work most days as soon as time allowed.
And, certainly, there is summer left to lean into.
I keep returning to the truth that perspective changes things, as is true certainly of gratitude. So I characteristically made a list of progress marked these past couple months, big heart changes and tough daily choices. And as I looked back I felt my posture shift to gratitude, to the present and the coming weeks before work swirls chaotically around me again. There is life to be stretched into, beauty to catch notice of, progress to be celebrated.