Rainy Day Ramblings

After an entire string of days with blistering July weather, all of which we enjoyed in all it's summer glory, we are every one of us happy to hunker down into this rainy day cottage vibe.  And even though it's not a steady rain, it's overcast and blowy, and I can already see another dark mass of clouds coming in over the bay.  So we're inside today.  

We've done so many things outside already!  Swimming, kayaking (even out to the Lizard and back), frog catching, reading, fishing, snake hunting (even a rattlesnake which was safely relocated), painting, feeding chipmunks, journaling down on the boat.  

We've been to Picnic Island and to Midland for ice cream and everything else respectively.  

We've seen the sun rise and the sun set and the blue skies and stars in between.  All our towels and swimsuits have been thrown haphazardly over the deck railing.  

All the life jackets and sun hats are everywhere and nowhere, depending on if you're trying to make your way across the deck or need to find them for the next boat adventure.

And it's all happened outside and wild-like.  And lazy,  because it's been so hot.  All the fans are going, and all the freezies are being slurp-crunched down, and not just by the kids.

So now, today, time for bed forts and board games and puzzles and reading out loud to people who can already read but reading out loud makes for such great memories anyways.  Time for s'mores maybe, now that we can finally tolerate the idea of putting on a fire.  Time to just be quiet and silly and inside together.

These family times in this place have come to mean so much to my heart that it is literally not possible to measure their worth.  Memories, bonding, growing up together, telling our stories and writing new chapters.  

Proverbs 17:6 says that "Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their parents."  And I feel like I'm living that dream.

We didn't coast here on an easy road.  Our story is deep and painful in some of its wretchedness.  Parenting is impossible to do perfectly, and it's easy to make mistakes that wound and require long patience and slow, meaningful forgiveness.  I, myself, am keenly aware of all there is about me that makes these cozy, safe rainy day realities nothing but a grace upon grace that I don't deserve.  

So there's nothing for it but just to sit and be grateful in it.  In the close way of it.  In the overwhelming love of it.  Holding on to it, but with a loose grip, knowing these moments are fleeting, and don't really, truly belong to me anyways, except for the gift it is from the Giver of every good thing.