i wake this morning and fling everything open, letting the cool come in. windows and doors wide to the outside...i'd remove the roof if i could. (probably shouldn't joke about that with a house like ours). flies, and an occasional gecko, will wander in too, but they are worth it for this, for this glory. it is only a season, and then gone. we can't do this as often as i'd like. july and august arrive and we must shut things down tight and yell desperate words at our neglectful children, "shut the door!" we close up or we end up roasting in our non-hermetically sealed homes. we breath air conditioning and it is our stale escape from the hot cloak of a southern summer.
we are born with clenched hands. fists, tiny and tight. we arrive in the world knowing already how to hold on to things. as a new mother i was mesmerized with putting my finger into the soft palm of my first baby and watching her grasp. over and over we would play this game; she predictable in her newborn reflex and me amazed in my new mother wonder. and doesn't this reflex continue even into our adult life? when we have something good we call it mine and we hold on hard. hunch shoulders. turn our backs. cradle it close. afraid. but just like this fall breeze blowing in through my morning kitchen, i often hear God's whisper, "let go." fingers spread, palms up, arms open. embrace Him. embrace what He brings. embrace what He gives. all of it. what might happen if we did? what could we do? who might we be?
without doubt, i am a windows and doors wide open kind of gal. and my prayer is to live my life like this - not just for a season, but always. to live unclenched. unfurled. to watch what the breeze blows in ...to see what the cat drags in ... to embrace what my God brings in...brings me.
wide and open and ready.