A few summer thoughts...

It's summertime.  That season in the South when the air is so thick with humidity that you can almost drink it. 

Cicadas scream through foliage-heavy trees, windows and sun-roof down, wet showered hair cold and sticking to the nape of my neck.  The smell of my citrus chapstick mingles with the scent of the mosquito repellent that I just sprayed all over myself. 

I'm driving to a bonfire.  The first of the year.....and it's good to be alive. 

There is something about a summer in the southern U S of A that you cannot find anywhere else.  Something perfect, though we all complain about the oppressive heat.  Yet, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Driving along old curving roads, the farmers are out in full force with their watermelons, tomatoes and cucumbers to sell. More than well-worn overalls hanging together with safety pins, and hands large and rough and accustomed to earth.  Some of the men only have a few teeth left, but those teeth are grinning and stained with tobacco juice. 

You breathe in the air and it's rich, sweet, and sticky in your nose...and hot.  So hot.  

A few weeks later and I'm driving to Nashville, visiting a dear friend.  We spend a day on the river.  Kayaks getting stuck on rocks (well, mine did), skin tightening from the too-long exposure to that merciless sunshine.  Time enough for laughing and spending 5 hours paddling, floating, talking. 

Could God bless any more? 

So much blessing.  It nearly overwhelms.  It should overwhelm. 

And yet there are still times that I complain...

...Complain that I am not somewhere else...complain that I am not with someone....complain that I am not who I want to be.  Complain about the normalcy of my life. 

What a foolish woman.

I walk into Wal-Mart, and my hurried, worrying, complaining mind is stopped dead in its tracks.

An old man is walking through the center aisle, shoulders stooped, and his son is leaning on his arm. 

The son shuffles feet, slowly making his way forward.  His mouth hangs open and his eyes are crossed, hands contorted and reaching fingertips out in constant stretching.  He grunts out a delighted laugh as they pass the candle aisle.  The father looks at him.  Exhausted eyes brighten with patience, love....and contentment.  

I quickly pass and blink back the tears that want to appear.  The conviction gripping my throat as I swallow.

I look at my full-to-overflowing life.  A life brimming with opportunities, deep conversations, generous people, loving family, health, encouragement, ...God. 

To my selfish, discontent mind, a trip to Wal -Mart can be a nuisance.  Something that keeps me from being where I would rather be. 

But for that young man, a trip to Wal-Mart could be the most exciting event of his week.  The mere act of walking, being near people, and standing next to his father was enough to light his face.  More than enough to make him happy. 

More than enough.

And I have no excuse...

and nothing to say...

except to pray that my life becomes one constant outpouring of thanksgiving, for I've been given so much more than I deserve.