Gratitude Sunday

Maybe it's just the emotional high that follows a bout of sickness.  Maybe it's the sun that's been shining, at least a little, this past week.  Whatever it is, I'm feeling full of gratitude for so many things.

 Playing in the sunshine and the creek.  

 Everything is starting to green up and the trees are putting on buds.

 ALL of the kids playing together on Friday evening.  And they were all laughing. 

 New raised beds, full of rotted compost.  Ready for greens and carrots.

Surprise bulbs coming up in the stone planters on the patio.  This makes me happy because G.Barb planted these.

As I lay in bed last night, Sarah started asking about who lived in this house before us.  She asked who slept in Jack and Jon's room and I answered that her Grandpa Pennick did (though I omitted the part about him climbing out his window at night so as to not give her any future ideas.  That child is trouble.).  She asked who slept in she and Madeline's room and I answered that her Aunt Pat did.  She asked who slept in my room and I told her Grandpa Bill and Grandma Barb.  And before them, probably her great, great grandparents.  That's when it hit me how wonderfully strange and awesome it is to think of so many generations of Bill's family living right here.  In this house.  How often does that happen anymore?  I find myself thinking about all the women who cooked (countless) meals in the kitchen.  The meals that were eaten by family and friends in the dining room and nook.  The feet that walked the wood floors (and the hands that painstakingly laid those floors) and the people who sat and visited in the living room.  I'm just awestruck by it all.  

To be honest, I can't say I was fully on board with Bill's idea of settling on this farm.  It's so far from everything, the house is so old and small, the upkeep will take so much effort, there's wild animals prowling around....The list went on and on.  I'm glad I trusted his vision, because I am finding myself so comfortable and happy here.  If I've learned anything this past year, it's that I'm not every truly in charge.  When I think I've got everything planned and mapped out for the future, God comes in with a better plan. I might drag my feet or kick and scream in protest, but ultimately, His ideas are better than mine.  

Might I always remember that lesson.