Coffee cup filled with light dark sips of goodness in hand, early this morning as the sun arose I just sat and thought and admired the beauty right outside of my RV window, dwelling on the beauty of everything on the inside. Here inside our tiny little home on wheels, listening to the soft pitter patter of raindrops on our roof I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. There are few things quite as lovely and refreshing as the sound of rain falling on roofs. I find something about gloomy, rainy days to be comforting.
I find beauty in the oddest of things actually.
My whole life is so different than just six months ago. I find myself enjoying life so immensely that I am sad to see each day come to an end. As if I’m clinging tightly to the remnants of a wonderful experience. I go to bed each night with anticipation for the morning to come, for a new day to begin all over again.
Far from the normalcy of my old life of neatly laid out schedules, grand houses, white picket fences, the manicuring of lawns….. and reputations – all the rushing about. There isn’t anything wrong with that life, it is what it is we are searching for there that can all to easily become the noose around our neck.
It feels a bit like we’ve untied the knot and slipped the noose off.
For a while I’ve felt almost as if I was living someone else’s life. But lately, this new life is beginning to feel like my very own. And I chuckle a bit inside as I re-read my own words because from the sound of it one would start to think I live some kind of grand life of perfection and ease, spending my days in the lap of luxury and fanfare.
That couldn’t be further from truth.
My life isn’t perfect and it could better be described as slow and steady, plain and simple. Not complex and anything but glamorous. Maybe enough to drive others mad. But me, I find such deep peace in unhurried days, so much fulfillment in the steady stream of days filled with deep purpose and accomplishment.
Nothing about my life is perfect, and yet – somehow it seems to be abundantly enough. I find myself stopping to admire the smallest of things, seeing the ordinary as gifts. The sweet chirping of birds, the sound of raindrops falling, the way the wind feels as it softly brushes my hair against my face, sunbeams warming my skin on a cold day, the solemn stillness and quiet of a winter snowfall.
All the fluff of my old life has been removed and only what is real remains. It’s amazing what one discovers about themselves when all the “fluff” gets removed. All the substitutes that tend make up who we and others believe us to be.
Most days I don’t bother to put on makeup or wear trendy clothes. Oh I love to feel beautiful just as any woman would, but I’m learning what defines me. It is not a pretty face, or the clothes on my back. I’m losing my desire to be known for the what I possess, what I can do or the way I look at my very best. And still, for the first time in my life, I feel beautiful and strong, even after the make-up is washed away and the curls have fallen flat.
I find myself falling in love with being known for the truth of who I really am.
The same life that the ones who live with me know, that is the most beautiful one. The one whose nose is dotted with tiny freckles and uneven skin tone, messy hair thrown up making time for morning snuggles under the covers. The one who gives grace over spilled juice on a freshly mopped floor, little boy mistakes – even grown men ones. The one who has traded in the need to be somebody in this world, to be somebody to the three hearts I’ve been given to love first.
Grace for my own soul. Removing the demands I had placed on myself to be, learning to fully embrace who I am becoming.
This confident, bold little girl who has become a woman, wife and mother – yet still such a work in progress. But I see it all happening. I feel myself becoming that which I had never even known I wanted to become. It is wonderful and beautiful, the becoming.
The same grace like rain that poured lavishly over my life a few short years ago has wrecked me for life. Even still, remaining a steady stream of love and forgiveness and life. A life that could have looked very different than the one of now.
Grace is the presence that knows you’re a work in progress and is simply delighting in your becoming. And its delight is what gives us the space and strength to enter into our own humanity—all of our immaturity and messiness—to claim our mistakes, and to confess them without fear. Grace is the quiet voice within, always whispering, “I’m quite fond of you, even in your messy becoming.” – Kelly Flanging
I’m becoming quite fond of this girl who stands on mountainsides drawing fresh air into her lungs and whispers audible “thank yous” for things so small as this. This mother who watches her little ones as they sleep and holds her face tightly to their pink cheeks, in awe of every rise and the fall of their small chest. This wife who lays her head on her husbands strong chest as he sleeps at night, listening to every beat of his heart, reveling at how wonderful it is to hear the very heart that was created to love someone like her – and grateful that it chooses to still.
When I was a girl I always had a sense that I would grow up to be somebody. Someone who did great things and possessed much.
I spent so much of my twenties fighting my way to that somewhere.
And then one day I threw up my white flag. I let it all go. I well remember that day.
I surrendered my heart to a plan, a vision for my life so much greater than my own.
It is then that I learned that I already possessed all that I had been fighting for.
It has been in the letting go that I began to discover that life isn’t about what we are, but who we are constantly becoming.
The simple life.
Yes, I’m becoming quite fond of you.