Friday, October 26, 2007

Dear God,

I sit looking out my kitchen window, a gentle rain falling from the sky. The fragrance of my Yankee Christmas Berries candle wafts through the kitchen into the dining room as I write. All is quiet except the subtle purr of the refrigerator. Just the way I like it.

In little more than 30 hours I will return to my other home. I will miss Maine, my neighbors, the ocean, my home. I have given so much to this house in the last couple of years. I painted every wall and ceiling. I’ve repaired window sills (all 30 plus), added lots of plaster (can’t sand off lead paint by law) painted, and hung shades and valances. Not bad if I do say so myself. I’ve decorated, bought used furniture (mostly under $1,000 for the whole house) and organized every knife, canned good and cookbook. I look around and feel that I have loved the house back to its original condition. Yes, my husband’s hand has been in it as well working with contractors. But the finishing part of the process has been my work.

There’s something different about this house. I don’t know whether it’s because it has a long history (nearly 200 years) or it’s in Maine or what. There’s just something different. Other people have remarked that it’s a peaceful place. Maybe it’s the woods out back or the Mousam River. I don’t know.

I flourish here. I drink in spring, summer, fall, winter. Every season. I’m allowing the colorful Autumn leaves to etch their pictures in my mind. I walk, sit, dance, read, think, reflect at the beach. Yesterday, there were only three people there. I sat bundled up, leaning against the long driftwood log as I ate my lunch, read my book, talked to my daughter on the phone. Stayed for a long time. Watched the tide go out.

My contentment stems from a deep understanding of your presence. The peace I have is your peace. My hope is your hope. My joy yours. I’m in your hands and knowing that brings breath to me, long, slow deep breaths that bring warmth and comfort, compassion.

Merciful God,
I breathe in your spirit
because you are life
to me.
In the quiet stillness
I know you.
I hear your voice.
We are together,
you and I.
Solitude.

Love, Andrea