I sat on the bench at the playground as Carter ran around the various areas. We had just finished baseball for the fall season. I watched other kids play, parents talk and teenagers throw football off to the side. It’s amazing how you can be lonely in the midst of a crowd.
I sent Val a message wondering where we fit in. Our story isn’t set yet. Our roots aren’t in the dirt. We are different from so many of the other couples, ones that don’t consider Monday the worst day of the week.
We’re a work in progress, a life being written.
This morning I read an article about Micro Church. It cited one in Brooklyn meeting in a storefront every week to share a meal, an interesting image so close to the massive Brooklyn Tabernacle. Two buildings for the same purpose. Two congregations existing on different paths.
Now is the perfect time to examine the journey.
Later in the day we visited an orchard a few miles away. The one we normally go to was closed. After having to pull over and GPS the address on my phone, we finally found it. A dirt road led up and across rolling hills. Finally, we parked on a hilltop with fields and trees blazing with color all around us. The girl working the small shed where you paid said the pumpkins were up over a hill in the distance.
We kept walking and, when we crested that hill, I was struck by the beauty of the moment.
A constant breeze pushed us forward. The gravel road paralleled a field of pumpkins to our left and apple trees to our right. Carter ran ahead to find his pumpkin. Val and Aiden walked together. I snapped some pictures.
It was a reminder, the creator tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “If I can paint these hills and grow these apples, things are under control. Every blade of grass in this field holds my fingerprint. The wind carries my song. If I care about this, how much more do I care about you? Everything will be okay.”
Life will be okay.
I stored the moment in my heart as you must do with all divine communication. Maybe Monday won’t be so bad after all.