When I go to the country for a holiday, I imagine I will have time for projects and books and all the things that my normal routine squeezes out. I picture myself productive in the afternoons, nestled in with coffee and computer to pound out everything that's pressing. When I actually get to the country for a holiday, I laugh at my imagined productivity because the days are full - too full to be productive in projects and books and lists. Full of life and laughter and people. There is never a good time to "get away" because my parents live in a very "away" place. We wake up and wander into the kitchen for breakfast, then we wander into the living room for play time, and then the day wanders along until we curl under the covers for sweet rest once again.
But the day is so full that it pushes my weekly understanding of productivity aside. The best and most beautiful thing to do with those country moments is to live them - to cheer the family football game with cousins and eat leftover turkey sandwiches in the evening, to gesture wildly with charades and chase little ones around for hide-and-seek, to curl up with blankets after everyone else is in bed and ask questions our day routines don't allow.
The crowded Nichols house was waking up with the dawn on Friday morning and Black was more than an hour away.
When I go to the country for a holiday, the color is warm, the table is full, and the company is unmatched.
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
"Before you go out into the world, wash your face in the clear crystal of praise. Bury each yesterday in the fine linen and spices of thankfulness." --Charles Spurgeon