I awaken to a dusty sky, rumors of more rain, and the walnut tree has shed her leaves all over the back yard. My youngest has promised to water my garden while I’m in Haiti but if this keeps up, he won’t have to. The world is wet, glistening around the edges and I look up to see a perfect half moon dangling over me.
This sky. Under its canopy we have danced and loved and fought and breathed life into every moment. This sky cradles the ones I love and the one I desire most and the ones I have yet to meet. I look up at this sky now and follow its curvature, bear witness to how it hugs the earth.
My youngest sets an alarm on his phone to remind him to look at the sky at 8:40 p.m. every evening. He tagged the alarm “beautiful sky” after studying the sunset for days to find its most glorious point in time. This boy read this book and now he writes “practice” on his right hand and “noticing” on his left in permanent marker. He’s only fifteen and already he knows we need reminders. Every time I take his hands I notice something new, something beautiful.
Today, as I finish packing for my trip, I practice noticing. The way the sun falls on the wooden floor, dew clinging to the glass on the French doors, the way Bonnie’s nose twitches when her boys come downstairs still smelling of sleep …
And when I arrive in Haiti tomorrow afternoon I will look up at the sky, trace it’s soft curve with my blue eyes, and know this same sky holds us all.
**friends, I’m not sure what internet access will be like in Haiti, or what my schedule will allow as far as posting. So, for the first time since we began, I’ll be taking a week off from our Playdates with God linkup on Monday. I may still be able to post, but we’ll keep it loose and free. Thank you for your grace and please pray for me as I travel!