Its beautiful. The sun shines down on green, leafy life. Children can be heard laughing as they play, birds flit and sing, the air is warm and soft.
It is easy. We rest, sleep is usually long enough. Anxiety has been banished. Employment satisfies and supports, what a rare, unfamiliar gift. Our young ones grow in health and in learning and amaze us more every day.
It is comfortable. There is space about us. There are enough arms to hold the little lives that fill our rooms with happy noise, and somehow, there are enough hours in the day to love them well.
We have enough. The mouths are fed. Tummies are full. Backs are clothed and still there is more. Our cups runneth over.
This season of life is the most comfortable that Ryan and I have ever shared.
But a breeze is starting to blow. The leaves are starting to turn over and I can feel a prickle on the back of my neck as the wind changes. I can smell rain, moist and wet, and everything feels hushed and expectant.
I look forward and see not ominous storm clouds, but heavily weighted, billowing, momentous mountains, promising... what I am not sure. I am not apprehensive or anxious, but I can see them approach.
A change is coming. Hard work lies ahead. I can feel it in my bones.