It’s been a rainy day. The kind where you’re glad to be indoors with a good book. I have a good book: a lovely Georgette Heyer I either have never read, or haven’t read in so long I forget what it’s about and enjoy as if it were new. I’m not reading though…I have words pressing on me, wanting to be set free.
I’ve set up the laptop on the dining room table, and from here I am part of everything happening in the house, and yet separate from the action. I am an observer in the lighthouse. From here I can see my sister reading Jane Austen on the sofa, and behind her, stands St. Joseph in a lovely transom window. Through the window I see trees in variegated shades of green. Because of the rain, the trunks and branches are picked-out more darkly than usual, providing a sharper contrast between the transient and what will survive the winter. The boys are in the other room, watching a typical, high-adventure type of boy movie, happy as clams. (Are clams happy? I’ve always wondered. Personally, I would not enjoy sloshing about in the water, getting sand in all my assorted nooks and crannies)
This is a perfect example of how deep happiness lies in simplicity. It has not been a day of whirlwind activity, constant stimulation, shopping, or entertainment. I have been in the presence of love…love of my family, and the deep abiding love of my Heavenly Father.