Ten years ago I sat in our home and lit a candle. The candle was one I'd bought a couple weeks earlier as a way to hold onto hope that our housing situation was going to improve soon. We were living in an apartment that we'd moved into so that we could pay off school debt more quickly, one we later discovered had a major mold problem.
We'd picked up keys to a house, the first home we'd ever bought, a couple days earlier and our apartment was filled with friends who were helping us move. I was seven months pregnant with our fourth kid and, having done all the packing and cleaning on the front end, was fairly useless when it came to loading a truck. Everyone told me to head to the house and just relax.
So I did. I drove to an empty house and lit that candle in stillness and gratitude.
This morning I'm sitting in that same house. Tim's gone for the day, fishing with a friend. One of our kids is an adult who's married and doesn't live with us anymore. The other three chose to pull an all-nighter together and are sleeping the day away.
I'm enjoying an ordinary view on an ordinary day while being warmed by a fire in the wood stove. Sitting in stillness and gratitude once again.
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