The novelty of living here has worn off. The joy of living here has not. Our bedroom is decked with heavy curtains. They match the new bedspread I got on clearance a few months ago, and I love them (I totally copied our bedroom style from my sister Chelsi, who I has a nearly identical duvet). They are heavy, dark brown microfiber. And they shut out the light completely. This is a dream come true for Aaron, who likes nothing better than to be able to go to sleep at any hour of the day and feel like it's the dead of night. It is not so great for me, who likes to wake up as the sun rises and fills the bedroom with light. Fortunately for me, I have a summery new set of lime-green chiffon curtains to hang as soon as spring concerts are over, and I'm already prepping Aaron on the fact that he will be required to at least try to sleep during [my version of] normal hours for the summer.
Anyway, all this brings me back to living here. It's harder to wake myself up in the mornings in that dead black room, but it is so worth it. If I'm up early enough, or if the kids don't have school, I pull on a pair of running shoes and take a little jog around the neighborhood. I don't think my little circle is more than a half-mile long. But in that time I run past three ponds! There are ducks that land with a streaking splash into the still water, geese that honk exuberantly overhead, and numberless little birds going about their business, building nests, quarrelling, gathering food, and just singing about the sheer joy of their little lives aloft. It fills my soul. Sometimes I only have time to pop a mug of apple cider (really Mott's natural-pressed apple juice which is nearly as good) in the microwave for a minute and take it steaming out on the back porch to watch the natural world waking up. It feels like heaven to have my cold fingers clasped around the warm mug as I drink in the wet greens and browns of life uncurling in the morning rays of sunlight.
I wonder if I would appreciate living here if we hadn't spent those three years in Regina. Would I be able to smile every single time I watched the sun rise in the east, the pale grey of the horizon deepening to a happy-baby pink, then shooting yellow firecrackers into the sky? Would I truly get the loveliness of driving through our pleasant little neighborhood and then pulling into the driveway of the cutest house on the block? Would I appreciate the giggling sounds of children darting back and forth between their bedrooms above us as they film the new movie they're making, while Aaron and I chill in our slowly-coming-into-being island-retreat bedroom? Would I be able to love my kitchen cabinets even though they don't have hardware yet? Would the gentle swish of my washing machine bring a smile to my face? Would I consider a bathroom with a separate shower and tub a total luxury? Would the three hours it takes to drive to Chicago or Cincinnati seem like such a short trip? Would the arrival of spring in March rather than May seem like such a cause for celebration? So many more hypothetical questions I could pose! The answer to most of these, I'm pretty sure, is a resounding NO.
As cold and desolate as I sometimes felt there, living in Regina was a huge blessing for me. I didn't have fun learning those lessons, at least not all the time, but I did learn them, and I can be a happier, more content person because of them. It's always good to be reminded that hard things are good. Only by living through trials, no matter how big or small, can the Lord strengthen us and prepare us for whatever the future holds for us. I'm amazed, looking back over those three years and seeing the little ways we were blessed, and the big ones too. It makes me feel like a whiny baby that I wasn't able to embrace all the experiences all the time (but then I remember for just a minute exactly how cold that cold wind felt, or the ice on the insides of the windows in March, and I can forgive myself a little).
I love this city. I think it's where I want to raise our family and spend our lives--at least as far into the future as I can see. Living here is good. And it's nice to be where we want to be.
2 comments:
Those lime green chiffon curtains sound great for letting the light in. The room I currently wake up in is the most bright and sunny room I've ever experienced waking up in on a regular basis. I am amazed at how it has turned me into more of a morning person than I've ever been before. Amazing how my body responds to nature's rhythms so much easier when it can actually sense the sun's schedule. Getting out of bed in the morning has transformed itself from a very difficult ordeal into a pretty much effortless task. Hooray!!
If only we could get a glimpse that things won't always be crappy, we'd endure it a lot better I think.
We all need that crap dumped on us, just like a garden, so we grow more beautifully through life. (it sure does stink though)
Post a Comment