Summer Evening

It's 6:20pm. Usually we are eating supper or the children are splashing in their evening bath. Tonight we are sitting in the back yard. Caleb asked if he could play outside; "I want to play in the dirt." When his request was granted he asked, "Mommy will you come outside and watch me? Go get Daddy and tell him to come too." So here we are, the damp summer air cooling on our skin, the sparrows doing their evening dance as the day and night music of birds, crickets, and frogs mingle together in a dusk ensemble. Adara laughs as she tosses half a plastic easter egg of dirt on Otis, the dog. Caleb works diligently on a "road." Nathan reads a book to me as I listen to him, and the ensemble, and the sound of about 15 young boys passing by along the road. And I know that God is here. In the children's play and the boys' chatter, in the green, green grass that is growing too fast with the extra summer rains. In the sweet dewy smell as day turns to night. In the story of dragons and quests and the Creator of both. In the freshly made dirt road and the monster truck racing around the bend. He is here, with me, with us. How easy it would have been to miss this moment, to be busy with more pressing things. And yet as I sit here I know the laundry needing to be folded will not protest. The dishes in the sink will not cause grief for the delay. The children's bedtime will not begrudge if we show up late tonight. As I let myself be distracted by joy I find peace, and I find the One who brings it.