My street is still quiet this morning.
The neighbors sleep in and the kids are home from school in order to honor every life that has ever been lost so that we may live free.
Because we are free.
We’re free indeed.
Sunlight pours in through old windows and the film of the city coats the glass in a thin layer.
I need to wash them, but I can’t, really. The glass panes are a hundred years old and some of them leak and I’m afraid to press a towel to the glass for fear of shattering a priceless pane.
So I watch the sun through the film and I soak up every dirt filtered ray.
This sun is the promise of summer.
The summer of being set free.
I sit and watch my small world come to life and it occurs to me that I’ve lost time in watching the sun wake. I smile because I don’t lose time and this is new to me.
I think I like it, this losing time.
I mentally number the morning’s gifts and my thoughts move towards the expanse of summer stretching out before me and I’m caught up in the freedom of its days.
The months are marked in squares on a calendar and each square holds 24 hours of nothingness.
The choice is ours.
We’ve been intentional this time, the man and I. We’ve intentionally written our family into the scope and sequence of summer’s days of nothingness.
We’ve written in space for God to show up and redeem the time we’ve squandered in the doing and in the going and in the trying to be all things to all people.
I can feel it deep down in my bones.
I shift my weight in the chair, the sunlight no longer pooling in my lap, and it’s pure joy I feel welling up within me.
The summer of freedom is coming.
I can feel it deep down in my soul.
And I think I might like this, too…
This being set free.