Two weeks of school and summer is a fuzzy memory. The morning is a blur. The coffee is to go. Bites of oatmeal and blueberries happen at stop lights and train tracks. The days are packed and the afternoons slip away with homework and dinner and bath and books. The nights are filled with visits from friends and writing and art are left for last.
But on Friday afternoon, after school, we make summer last. They jump into the pool and laugh and jump again and again and again. I watch them. Just watch them and let the minutes tick past and I don't care because their giggles and smiles and crazy jumps restore summer. They remind me I have time. I have time to breathe and write and watch.
After awhile I open my notebook and marks become words and sentences and fill one page and another. All of the reasons I'm not enough slip away onto those pages and I'm filled with Truth. Maybe it's not because everything is jammed into a single day, but because I'm not taking time to make the most important connection of the day. It is here, making summer last that I'm reminded there is a God who can shoulder my stress and frustrations and busyness, if only I take the time to put Him first instead of last.