The other day, I read the above quote by Brene Brown. She is such a modern-muse.
Then later that evening, or maybe on an entirely different day - mental muddiness is a very big adventure in pregnancy - I found myself living within BB's words, and I felt I should set an anchor to them.
Because I feel like living within true principle or of a genuine manner, things of seemingly small glamour and consequence become magnified! And other eyes would still look onto them with plainness. I so desire to surround myself with others of the same mind, same eyes. And I feel this way about my marriage and the Gospel. Both magical and insanely happy and satisfying. And I know I will feel this way about our children and a home-family life. And what simple splendor other eyes will never witness, we will thrive within. We don't have to dig expansively; we just have to tune our senses correctly. And therein is all we need.
So anyway, here's my story of a joyful ordinary moment.
Ryan and I had just finished the second half of Atlas Shrugged, a politically-based movie. Of which we hold the same beliefs. We have been discussing politics a lot lately. Over dinner, in car rides. And Ryan and I pair so unanimously on how we see things and what we believe. So following the movie, we began another discussion. Then we remembered the sprinkler in the yard that needed to be turned off, so we headed out together to accomplish this one-man simple task and continue our conversation. We walked hand-in-hand down the side of our home. Passed the overgrowing raspberry bushes, the peach tree, Ryan's tomato gardens - pieces of our nature sanctuary - and we turned off the sprinkler. Simple, ordinary.
We approached our other gardening boxes, while we continued our conversation. I remarked that if we had some gardening gloves, I would be happy to wake up early one morning and help Ryan weed our large garden. Due to other home projects that have taken precedence, weeding fell to the bottom of our list. I assigned weeding into this category of an immense, arduous, enduring task. One that we'd have to plan hours for, so we could physically and mentally be committed. As we talked, we picked one weed here, one weed there. And before we knew it, with knees wet and hands all muddied, we had weeded two entire boxes. It never felt like a chore. But a beautiful time together in the dim, cool evening, connecting with and touching pieces of the earth.
A very small ordinary task of turning off the sprinkler became a really joyful time in the nature haven that is ours. I loved that evening with Ryan.
And, in pulling a weed, I accidentally pulled the cutest little carrot in the whole world:
Upward and onward,