“Hello” the morning sun whispers. Eyes squinting, I mutter some encouragement to myself as I urge myself to wake up. Tea in hand, I sit down at the well weathered wooden desk. The chair, ragged with a diy kitenge chair pad made years ago, falling apart at the seams. Waiting to be remade. And yet, it is here where I find myself wanting to be. The light seeping through the side window of the room - casting highlights on my forest green mug of steaming tea and sending sunshine cascading along the wall before me. For a moment I’m captivated by the words etched into its being - Joy. In the waiting. I sit and I reflect. Everyone is waiting for something. A healing. For provision. A change in circumstance. For direction. An unanswered prayer. But having joy in the waiting - that’s harder to come by. So, how? If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love , just as I have kept my father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my jo
The canopy spread out above me, offering much needed comfort and coolness in the peek of the day. Covering like a leafy blanket, sheltering my being from the scorching rays of the afternoon sun. I sit and I swing. The gentle and steady creaking of a well used green hammock chair, rocking me to calm. Swaying away worries, stress and the anxious thoughts that have tried to take over the past few days. I breathe deep, reminding myself that all these lingering and uncomfortable things will one day pass. Just probably not in the timeline I want. The breeze refreshing, as a twittering orchestra of trills and birdsong echo across the gardens before and behind me. I’m hemmed in. This space has been all but forgotten until now. Three hanging pots still cling to their sturdy branches, but two of them have seen better days. They need some tending to. Come to think of it, I feel like those once flourishing vines in the pots, weary and worn from a lack of receiving something life giving.