I haven't recovered from my insanely busy weekend, so I instead of writing something new, I dug up something I wrote in April of 2009. The only changes I made to it were corrections of spelling errors (bane of my existence!). So my age has changed since I wrote this, but not much else has changed! Enjoy!
I like the taste of vanilla ice cream on a cone, especially the first taste. I anticipate the flavor, the feeling of cool, and yet it always takes me slightly by surprise--the sweetness, the cold on my tongue. Sometimes I can feel the cold tingle down my throat. I smell the cone with the taste, and memories I can't quite remember rise to the surface, and I'm left feeling warm despite the chill of the ice cream.
I like sunny days when I can sit in the shade and stare up at the blue blue sky with clouds that are so full I'd swear they were more than just fog and mist. I like rainy days, too, where the sun is masked by those clouds in a blanket so thick it looks like there aren't any clouds at all--just that the sky has turned gray. I like the feeling of rain when it just begins to sprinkle, lighting on my arms so that they tingle as if they were numb. Then the smell of rain comes and brings with it music--that rhythm that soothes as completely as the hidden sunlight.
I like the richness of the green grass, and the smell of green, the way the earth wakes up after a long, cold winter. I like the way life renews itself in strange bursts--like the silliness of the squirrels and birds chasing one another, the somewhat annoying presence of pollen everywhere, the simple beauty of all the colors in the flowers that we take for granted. I like that we get to experience that season, followed by the lazy days of summer, where I'm once again reminded of something I can't quite remember. Wet swimsuits, the smell of charcoal and citronella, the feeling of exuberance at parades and fireworks and family everywhere--corn on the cob and hamburgers. And then those days melt away into the slow sleep of autumn, when the leaves fall away and the air becomes crisp. The greens and yellows are replaced by golds and oranges, reds and browns. Nature slows down, yet speeds up, knowing there isn't much more time left to frolic and gather, plan and play. Then the cold comes, bringing Christmas! The memories I can't remember rush upon me then, almost 30 Christmases have come and gone, full of family and warmth, and Promise. The New Year comes, and it seems that I and the rest of the world are waiting, once again, for the earth to spring back to life. The months are long and cold and harsh, but even in the waiting is a beauty, a joy, a hope. Life will be renewed.
I like the smell of flowers, of earth, of air conditioner when you first turn it on after a long winter's rest. I like the smell of toast, of water, of clean laundry, of berries. I even like some bad smells, because they're so strong I just have to sniff again to experience the intensity. Smell is a gift that, like color, I often take for granted.
I like the sounds of music--of an orchestra tuning, a glorious cacophony awaiting the glorious symphony. I like the sounds of squeaky violin students, knowing that perhaps some of them might end up playing those glorious symphonies. I like the sound of percussion, of rock, of syncopated rhythms of joy and freedom, matched with skill and tempering. I like the sound of worshippers, careful, yet free, knowing that with every "Hosanna" they shout, they are only a breath away from shouting "Crucify"...and yet they sing. I like the sound of children laughing, children singing, slightly out of key, and not caring. They sing because they want to sing, and they cannot keep silent. I wish more grown ups were that way.
I like the feel of a warm bed and cool sheets, sleeping in the afternoon with the sun pouring its gold through cracks in the curtain on the window. I like sleeping in the early morning when the rain is pouring down. I like dreaming and waking without the alarm's dreadful drone. I like waking with it, too, when I know that there's a day ahead of me that I've never seen before, nor will ever see again.
I like the feeling of friends all around me, of their laughter and tears--of sharing my life with others. I like the feeling of being all alone in a room, with no one there to see me but God. I like the sound of silence, the sound of nothing, with its lack of being pressing so hard upon my eardrums that I do hear it echoing across the void around me. I like the way silence has a way of making me feel less alone and more alone at the same time. I like not being afraid of silence. I like not being afraid of being alone. I don't always achieve that; the only times when you can, I think, are when you've got nothing to hide.
I like the darkness, but only because darkness isn't dark to the Lord. I like that He sees us as we are, knowing that we take everything He's given us for granted. Yet He continues to be who He is, and the sun continues to come up, even if the clouds cover it so we can't see the blue of the sky.
I like the evening, when the sun goes down, bringing with it even more memories I'll probably never remember. I like the way the sun sinks down, and the blue sky grows darker. It's still blue... I like the way the whole earth feels, cooler, darker, but not always sadder. The night still shines like the day.
I like the wind, sometimes as cool and calming and soothing as a breeze that plays with my hair and whispers secrets of Forever into my ears, only I'm not smart or strong enough to hear them. Sometimes it's raging and wild, dangerous. I'm reminded of a roaring Lion, powerful and untamed. The storm may not always calm without ripping away at the structures I've built around myself...the breeze always follows.
I like living. I like life. I like having Someone worth living for. I like being. I know that the only reason I can be, is because He is.
I wonder how the world misses it. Life is here; life is now; life is abundant...
Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's easy to believe that we aren't worth it all. We're not. He is. And He gave us life...
So live.
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