Today I...

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...Slept through my 6:30am alarm.  Dashed around the house trying to get myself and my daughter in the car so I could drop her off at a friend's house and make my 9am appointment for a much-needed haircut.

...Kissed and thanked my husband who quickly whipped up a tea latté without my even asking and handed it to me as I was running out the door.

...Dropped my daughter off at my friend Melissa's house where she played with dollhouses and bears and hats and books.  Caught up with my beloved hairstylist/friend Sylvia.  Rejoiced again in how much I love having bangs and wondered where they've been all my life.

...Retrieved my daughter and asked if she wanted to go on a date with Mommy for smoothies.  Her reply: "Ohhh-KAYYYYYYY!"  Headed to Southpaw's for a Chocolate Nutty-Monkey smoothie and Green Gobbler sandwich with watermelon and orange slices and a side of silliness.

 ...Stopped by our store where I always love being on Fridays when new produce is arriving.  Butternut and sweet dumpling squash...swiss chard...sweet potatoes...

...Delivered some tea to a mama friend who was having a rough day.  Sat on the porch with her and her baby girl while my big girl played on the sidewalk barefoot, collecting acorns and berries.

...Stepped over fake play food and wooden tea set on the living room floor and put on Dora The Explorer without shame so I could cook dinner in peace.

...Made this for dinner, but instead of quinoa, I added roasted sweet potatoes and a side of chicken sausage.  Absolutely delish.

...Gave my daughter a bath, during which she asked me to cradle her plastic walrus bath toy in my arms like a baby.  I complied.

...Drank a glass and a half of wine - first, a leftover Syrah and then a Malbec sent over by the aforementioned mama friend as an unecessary but appreciated return gift for the tea.

...Felt excited at the sound of pouring rain outside (finally!) and the momentary flickering of the lights.  Perfect early fall evening.

...Danced in the livingroom with my husband and daughter, twirled until we were dizzy and fell down.

...Read Goodnight, Moon and The Animal "eestra" (Orchestra) three times each before the little one finally drifted off to sleep.

...Reveled in a quiet house after the rest of my family was in bed at 9:05pm. 

...Ate no less than three chocolate chip cookies with my bedtime tea and didn't regret it one bit.

...Realized that not all days are this imperfectly perfect, filled with such glimmering small treasures.  And that's why it's ever so important to celebrate those that are.

Open windows.

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Tonight, as I was putting my daughter to sleep in a second-floor bedroom, the one that belonged to {a younger} me for 17 years, I heard church bells chiming.  Their deep, warm resonance traveled as the crow flies from downtown, over quiet homes lit from within and yards humming with crickets, moments later floating into my room through screened windows cranked open to invite in the sounds of the night...choruses of tree frogs croaking back and forth, children calling each others' names at a front yard barbecue around the corner, the crack of a bat and men's animated voices at the softball game across the street.

Those church bells, they stirred something deep within me.  As I lay there under the open window on an achingly perfect night, with a cool summer breeze blowing across my legs, I couldn't help but feel that this is exactly what I need right now.

I know that "to everything there is a season," and there is certainly a season that calls for tightly sealed windows, holding loved ones close under toasty blankets, shutting out the cold.  But for me, this is a season for open windows, both literally and figuratively. 

Being away in New Jersey for this last month of summer has been an actual breath of fresh air in my life.  Summer should mean open windows, slightly cool breezes at night, living outside, or at least inviting the outside in, and I've gotten to experience all of those things.  More importantly, it's been a time to slow down, to soul-search, to shed some heavy baggage and embrace the lightness that comes with handing over your burdens to the only One who can handle them anyway.

Tomorrow, I'll return to Texas into the arms of my husband and the home I love, knowing there will be heat and humidity and that fall weather is still a way's off.  My fervent hope is to return with a greater desire to live "outside in" instead of insularly.  To live proactively instead of reactively.  To live more relationally instead of closed off.

I'll start small, with shedding the dark chocolate brown on my living room walls for a light smoky blue on three walls and bright coral on the fourth.   I'll learn to knit and needle felt.  I'll open my life to new people - strangers - through a fall Bible study and by making meals for new moms in my neighborhood.

These are just the small things.  But they have a common theme: letting go of fear, embracing life.

It won't be easy for an introvert like me to change and invite in new people and experiences, but it's time.  The winds of change only flow easily through open windows.  Even better, windows that are thrown open with abandon.