I had this plan of writing something beautiful today
because my morning was beautiful. I thought to myself, "Something that smacks of floating, frozen laces and rusty hinges...ahhh, yes."
There was a white fog, close to the house, and everything was covered in the frozen bits it left behind. It was simply beautiful.
But, my life isn't really what you'd call 'beautiful" right now. In fact, I haven't had time for a haircut or color for two months now, my eyebrows need plucking, I find myself grouching at grouchy kids more and more often, there is no time for friends, I've scheduled cuddle time with my husband (literally), I'm reading books about how to focus on reading instruction and we eat out about twice a week.
Now, that does not mean we are unhappy...things are just not beautiful right now.
I have no words to compliment the beautiful morning...
but I realize that I don't have to.
My home contains it for me.
I can't seem to stop for Beauty, so Beauty stops for me (how Emily Dickinson of me).
I feel allowed to just soak it in and appreciate it without having the words.
I am profoundly, unutterably grateful for this home of mine that gives me just exactly what my soul needs, no strings attached, every single day.