Seven Stories Up

Today my window looks out on 14th and Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington D.C.; the height and the double pane windows do not entirely obliterate the cacophony from below. However dampened, the discordant sound seeps in to my soul, causing unrest.
How I long for home; my little gravel road, my expansive backyard, my sheep baaaing at me from their corner of pasture, the rooster announcing his prowess, the stars in their proper and visible place in the firmament; all these I crave while here in this bustling, vibrant city.

The sounds, the smells, the energy of the city-any city really, are not for me. I've lived in large cities-Toledo Ohio, 309,000; I've lived in small towns-Hotchkiss,Colorado, 1000. I prefer the small town; there is a heartbeat that can be heard as well as felt.
The pace is slower, life seems to be really lived and not hurried through; time has less importance, and is measured in days not hours.

I love going on vacation, seeing something new, learning something I hadn't known, but going home to the pace I live by is beyond satisfying.

The Last Time

There are moments in our lives that are defining; perfect snapshots, in an imperfect world; moments that you will not recognize until later, possibly much later as “The Last Time.”

The last time you sing that certain bedtime song; the one you’ve sung for nearly 20 years. The last time you speak to someone in this life; the last time you laugh with him; the last time a frail hand reaches out to stroke your cheek while its owner expresses love for you.

When you pull up to the door of the kindergarten class with your last child in tow, you pretty much understand this is the end of that road, that chapter, but what about the rest of the ends?

Where will you be? What will you be doing, and who will you be with?
These aren’t ordinarily mind boggling questions, or something to lose sleep over; however, there are moments that you consider the question and just as quickly put it out of your mind, lest someone accuse you of worrying over nothing.

I’m here to remind you that today may be one of those moments; one of those chapter endings. Don’t waste it; don’t be inattentive. Tune your spirit into the whisperings of the Holy Ghost; listen for that still small voice that urges you to make that hug just a little tighter, that gaze last a little longer; time spent just a little more meaningful.

Guard your moments, enjoy every one of them. Tell those around you that you love them, and mean it.
And if by the grace of God, today wasn’t that Last Time, take time to thank your Heavenly Father, the One who lends us breath.