“I can’t get enough of wandering. . . some of us carry an inherent need to explore.
Textures. Fragrances. Sounds. Air. Shadows. Movement. Patterns. Light.”
// Victoria Erickson
I’ve been trying to figure out in my brain what it is exactly that makes spring so exciting.
Like, you know, the breath of fresh air that it is because it is, seriously. The pizazz that makes you want to do a happy dance or something. Or for those of us that aren’t as loose-limbed, attempting a happy dance. . . and looking much like a kangaroo on steroids (which I’ve never actually witnessed, but dug up the image from my brain files at this moment in a try-to-be-witty attempt. #fail)
But really, spring is just a happy season! Even the name of it sounds “bouncy” (fist bump to you if you thought of Tigger.) My travel/roadtrip/downtown shopping/car-riding itch is reenergized once again with the turn of the weather here in Tennessee, it always is when the sun shines 70 degrees.
Also, giving a boost to my new love of exploring different textures, because I wake up to some new sight outside every morning it seems like. Whether that be the slick green shoots of grass, the rough creek gravel of our driveway under my barefeet (hello, winter pampered feet), or the soft cotton touch of my new favorite tee.
My life is a constant crazy ever since the beginning of the year. I like to compare it to a hibernating bear, asleep and snoring for a couple years being normal and nothing too exciting to look at on the outside, but that is now waking up with a roar and an energy I didn’t know existed.
I want to slow it down. But ironically I want to go racing right with it too, matching it’s pace.
I hold on to these days tightly but gently, knowing they’ll slip through my fingers like sand if I’m not seeing them each day for what they are. I never want to be too busy to see the grace of God in every day, never too crazy to contemplate what story He’s writing for me, never too tired to patiently take steps knowing that He holds the ultimate blue-print of my life in his hands.
I’m a sucker for memory-triggers! Yep, a familiar place or sight, a smell, a type of music, or wearing the same outfit (you can officially freak out) will spur a memory in my probably much-messed-up head. So, all these spring textures. . . they are doing it for me. And I can’t help but smile.
I just love spring here at home, it holds a kind of beautiful promise for me of how the Lord brings change after a dead season (winter) and the vibrance of everything embracing that change. And to think, I get to be on the receiving end of this and see it every morning!
If I ever travel the world someday or leave my home, I will always want to remember my house, in the spring. The azalea bush, the brick walk, the creek gravel driveway. And oh yeah, especially the walk to the mailbox, which is probably my most favorite walk. And not just the house itself, but every single moment that happened under it’s roof or in the front yard.
My childhood is here. I see it so well in retrospect, the smells and sunshine of this season bring back a flood of memories. And while part of me wants to just grasp after those moments and relive them (ok, I’m a huge sentimental guys, you’re welcome) the more realistic and probably grateful side of me is just so ready to embrace the new memories, which hello! I’m making everyday.
See the textures around you in your own life, and not only the physical ones. But the ones of your life, the woven tidbits and texture of your own story that the Lord is weaving for you.
Textures are unique, different to the touch. So is your story, it has shape and uniqueness. . . some parts are rough, others smooth. Your life is a textured, beautiful work-in-the-making.
See that and embrace it.