Saturday, my in-laws hosted a family BBQ in the back yard. It was relaxing and fun (except when my sister-in-law’s 7 pound chihuahua made a power move on THIS DOG, who currently weighs in at 89.3 pounds. That was a little tense. But funny afterwards, because the little dog did not end up as an hors d’oeuvre.) As the dogs were calmed and the afternoon wound down, we all pulled lawn chairs into a circle and everyone tossed funny stories back and forth like a beach ball. It’s been awhile since I laughed that hard. It was lovely.
Sunday it rained – fantastic nap weather. (I firmly believe that daytime sleep is a gift from God) In the evening I worked on re-writing A Maze of Grace for the 2nd edition (more on that soon), and then was happily interrupted by a visit from Steve’s brother & his fiancé who came to hang out and enjoy beer and wine. Good stuff.
I’m reading the journal Henri Nouwen kept during his stay with a group of monks in New York. A few weeks into his stay, his spiritual director said something like, “It will take awhile for you to integrate the gifts of this quieter life with the rest of your life.” That felt familiar. It’s weird to live a quiet life after years of crazy schedules and fires to put out and things that threaten to fall apart if you don’t pay attention to them right this very second. That life was fueled by a shifting mix of adrenaline,fear, guilt and pride. Heady and addictive. It’s hard to tell what the quieter life is fueled by because it doesn’t demand feeding in the same way. But I think some of it is laughter and naps and gratitude that a day that started off with two dogs in the family, ended with two dogs in the family, even if they had to be kept at opposite sides of the yard.