It is morning - a new day has begun. I have already walked the dog, fighting off the flies and coming back with mosquito bites on my hands. The air is heavy with humidity. It rained last night, but the rain did not clear the air of moisture.
I sit here and look out at the lake. It is so quiet. There's a soft breeze - I can see it on the water, and I hear the rain fall out of the trees as the wind goes through.
This day is heavy for me. It is the last day of the first half of our week of vacation. Tonight our life will be filled with little voices - the wonderful sound of our grandchildren as we begin the second half of the week. They are coming to stay with us at the cabin, and I am excited about it. I love their exuberance for life - they want to do it all.
But this morning as I enjoy the beauty and the quiet around me, as I hear Craig breathing heavy in his sleep, I want to hold on to this moment for so much longer. I want time to slow down. I know that once the kids are here the days will fly and vacation will be over. Craig and I will go back to our jobs, and we will be apart again. And I don't know if I can keep living that way - apart, always wanting to be together at the cabin.
And then it hits me - I am looking at the wrong things. I am looking at the future instead of the present, what I don't have instead of what is right here, right now. I need to thank God, the creator of the beauty all around me. God,who has created me, has given me the breath that I breathe right now. God, who says, I am with you always. You are not alone.