Lessons with Jane: on the morning dew

More and more I’m noticing the importance of mornings spent together.
The act of gathering around the table, or snuggling close and facing each other on the couch, coffee steaming up against our chins as we share ourselves. It is a holy and magical thing.

I’ve never been good at sitting still. When I became pregnant, I was forced to rest, forced to put off all the housework, all the homework, all the worrying, and close my eyes for a few hours. Things are different now; I have a little man that I hold on to, keep close, and sit with, pray with, sing with. Those Tuesday and Thursday mornings that we all three get to spend together are increasingly priceless.

Travis sits and reads Proverbs to Eliot, reads parables to his son so that he will grow in the knowledge and love of the Lord. He offers him a glimpse of the beautiful and simple.

I dream of living in Regency era Europe, walking the countryside shared with Elizabeth Bennett, afternoons with Mr. Darcy, feasting in great halls with bread, candles, and turkey adorning the tables. I dream of both springtime sunsets and winter snowstorms. I dream of watching the scenes from my living room window, Eliot in my arms and Travis by my side.

There was a simplicity about that time that I’m drawn into. Reading for hours, music blaring from tangible instruments, the art of learning, a life free from the overgrowth of distraction, sitting in front of a fire and cherishing its presence, all that the quiet moment brings forth from the spirit.

This morning I am alone with Eliot. He is asleep in his crib, and I have turned off the lights, opened the blinds, and lit most every candle in the living room. Instead of a live guitar, Pandora plays from the kitchen counter, and instead of a quiet book, a still moment of writing and blogging. Still, these are the simple moments in which I have chosen to rest in the quiet instead of engage the noisy; it’s a very difficult thing for me to do.

I am being called to simplify, simplify, simplify.

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