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Waiting for life to begin. Waiting to build what I always see in my head as life. Thinking it's out there. Somewhere in the near future.
I've realized. Life doesn't begin when we move into our own home and off the Mountain, or when I finally figure out what I want to do when I grow up, or when we have finally paid the last payment on our debt or when I finally get to pull my belongings out of storage. Life is right now.
It is the thirteen year old venturing out after the school work has been down and comes back with a strange rock, muddy shoes and tales of wild animals he has been tracking. It is the MountainMan and I listening to one another retell the stories of our hearts, before the lights go out. It is the dog going to surgery to remove the cancer, the text from Momma saying the meds are working. It is the prayers on Monday morning. The coffee and Bible next to the fire. It is the warm breeze coming through the window. It is the foreign conversation with a child not born of me and yet we are raising him as our own.
Life is rum and cherry Pepsi on the rocks in the evening. The whistling of MountainBoys. It is the sixteen year old starting the broken Bronco for the first time, worked on and fixed by him, his brother and father. Real life is hard conversations over the trailers dim lit kitchen table. It is the ache of being so sorry that I feel it in my bones and can't seem to make them see. It is knowing that sometimes a simple hug and love is much better than any advice I could ever give. Life is Monday morning prayer times.
Life looks like the house that goes up for sale and ends with a new home, "the one"... I got to be apart of that life's adventure for them. Life is dinner at their place and dinner at our place. Life is the seven of us around a dinner table on Sunday, passing the mashed potatoes and hearing stories of alien ships and over thrown governments, as we have for nearly three years now.
Life is listening to the same story being retold. It is the story they were afraid to tell you. It is the grace that is given, the mercy that is taken. Life is disappointment at the truth and yet working through it. It is listening. It is hearing. It is touch and boundaries. It is the smell of fresh cut grass and fresh mountain air. It is the taste of fresh baked break. It is the purr of a kitten. A surprise email from a long lost friend. It is saying I love you. Thank you.I believe in you.
It's the unplanned pregnancy and the planned divorce. It is the school built for 200 girls. It's the things that were never part of "the Plan" I have found not many things are.
Life is right were we are at. It is built each day, each moment, each breath. The mistake is taking it for granted and thinking that life will happen when things are lined up just right. It's the little things that build a life.
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Waiting for life to begin. Waiting to build what I always see in my head as life. Thinking it's out there. Somewhere in the near future.
I've realized. Life doesn't begin when we move into our own home and off the Mountain, or when I finally figure out what I want to do when I grow up, or when we have finally paid the last payment on our debt or when I finally get to pull my belongings out of storage. Life is right now.
It is the thirteen year old venturing out after the school work has been down and comes back with a strange rock, muddy shoes and tales of wild animals he has been tracking. It is the MountainMan and I listening to one another retell the stories of our hearts, before the lights go out. It is the dog going to surgery to remove the cancer, the text from Momma saying the meds are working. It is the prayers on Monday morning. The coffee and Bible next to the fire. It is the warm breeze coming through the window. It is the foreign conversation with a child not born of me and yet we are raising him as our own.
Life is rum and cherry Pepsi on the rocks in the evening. The whistling of MountainBoys. It is the sixteen year old starting the broken Bronco for the first time, worked on and fixed by him, his brother and father. Real life is hard conversations over the trailers dim lit kitchen table. It is the ache of being so sorry that I feel it in my bones and can't seem to make them see. It is knowing that sometimes a simple hug and love is much better than any advice I could ever give. Life is Monday morning prayer times.
Life looks like the house that goes up for sale and ends with a new home, "the one"... I got to be apart of that life's adventure for them. Life is dinner at their place and dinner at our place. Life is the seven of us around a dinner table on Sunday, passing the mashed potatoes and hearing stories of alien ships and over thrown governments, as we have for nearly three years now.
Life is listening to the same story being retold. It is the story they were afraid to tell you. It is the grace that is given, the mercy that is taken. Life is disappointment at the truth and yet working through it. It is listening. It is hearing. It is touch and boundaries. It is the smell of fresh cut grass and fresh mountain air. It is the taste of fresh baked break. It is the purr of a kitten. A surprise email from a long lost friend. It is saying I love you. Thank you.I believe in you.
It's the unplanned pregnancy and the planned divorce. It is the school built for 200 girls. It's the things that were never part of "the Plan" I have found not many things are.
Life is right were we are at. It is built each day, each moment, each breath. The mistake is taking it for granted and thinking that life will happen when things are lined up just right. It's the little things that build a life.
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