An Unexpected Gift
A position from my couch, on a clear day, yields a view of the cascades. This morning, as I sit with my coffee, warm in my thick, blue robe, they are black against a burgeoning blue. A sunny, cold day here in the foothills – an unexpected bonus, a stolen gift. We expect only gray in December here in Seattle. We’re resigned. Stoic. And yet, here is a day like today, so clear I can see all the way to Mount Baker.
Resignation. Acceptance. We all have a lot of that in our lives. We want things that do not come. We fail. People let us down. The rain continues to fall. As adults we understand that things are not perfect. There are consequences. We live in green, therefore we must accept the rain. Of course, we tell one another, wet for green. But sometimes, like this week, a reprieve comes, and the glorious mountains decorated with newly fallen snow give way to the smudge of white and gray that we see through drops of rain.
Sometimes the unexpected comes. Sometimes a gift.
In the mornings, after one child is off to her life, with flute, lunchbox, backpack in hand, and while the smallest of my brood continues to slumber with blankets wrapped this way and that, blond hair strewn about her pillow, I sit with my coffee, savoring the world. A large window allows the outside to meet the inside from my spot on the couch, and how I love it, this view, this moment.
The sky changes as my coffee grows lukewarm. Yellow light creeps up from behind the mountain, revealing the scattered snow, crevices and dips, nuances that only moments ago could not be seen. The cats play in the window. Lights on our Christmas tree sparkle, and the decorations each bring a memory. The muses come, whispering to me for later, when I will sit at my desk and search for words in which to tell a story.
Ordinary moments in my ordinary life. And yet, these moments of solitude, of beauty are the ones that awaken a creative life. We must be still if the muses are to come. The business of this life will come later and I will meet those moments too, for they bring their own joys: exercise, laughter with friends, homework with the girls, my work, a new recipe for skirt steak. But for now I will take it all in, still stunned with childlike awe by how lovely this world is both inside and outside my window.
Take it in. Feed your soul. See the beauty, for it, like love, is what matters most.
The beauty of your life is there for us, an unexpected gift when we least expect it. But we must open our eyes and become still so that it might humble us, open us to love, turn our yearning hearts away from the idea of scarcity to abundance. It’s all there, waiting.
