Saturday Nights in Summer

There is this thing about life in the summer. It's a full out run. Panting, sweating, gasping. Most times it feels like we careen into Sunday and crash into our pew with a sigh of relief. We didn't die. Success.

But we as a family have begun to keep a tryst in the crazy summer. A tryst with a fire ring and 8 lawn chairs on Saturday night. Sometimes smores. Sometimes biscuits filled with oozing pie filling and creamy whipped topping still warm and smoky. Always coffee. We sit. We look at each other. No jumping for the canner or powering through the tall green in the zero-turn. Not even one more weed pulled or green bean snapped.

Sometimes, in exhaustion, we would rather slumber. Or perhaps that last unfinished project nags. But we choose to sit. To hear. To spend time. Because they are more important than the crazy summer. And our choice evidences that. 

So that is what we do. Bright fire crackling. Bird wings whipering.  Frogs croaking. The sun sinking. 

Soul rest.