Mercy and Grace in the Middle {When Life is Blessed}

Tonight, I had one of those incredible moments when you realize you are "living a dream you have not earned and do not deserve"...and with that, came the awareness to take joy in it.

And to take a picture.

For now, The Preacher and I are empty nesters. I say "for now" because I have learned to not count chickens 'till they not only hatch, but fly the coop. Ours have flown the coop - and seemingly for good, this time. We have no plans on anyone coming back home. Nevertheless, I crow about nothing anymore, because with young chickens, nothing is certain except them changing their plans.

Because our oldest children were honeymoon twins, I have dreamed about what my empty nest would be like since the first year of marriage! We only ever had about five weeks without the awareness that we were not alone. I have missed those five weeks for 26 years, I won't lie. We would do it no differently, even knowing what we know (how hard that first year was), but 26 years worth of only stolen moments alone, in 26 years of marriage, equals a certain eagerness to actually have our house to ourselves.

We have always speculated what life would be like when it was "just us again". And we were somehow wise enough to dream about it, and to take certain steps very early in our marriage, spiritually and relationally, to ensure that the season of our empty nest is a sweet season.

We were weird like that - a desire to run well and to lead was hard-wired into our relationship.

And so, we all grew up together, my Preacher and I and our kids, and he and I imagined what life would be like...and should be like...when it was "just us again".

Tonight, I realized my life had indeed become all I had imagined and hoped for, as the smell of fresh coffee filled my living room.

I took a picture of the exact moment.

The Preacher made me coffee tonight. He brought it to me in our living room, and sat down to read to me out of the book of Romans.

{Not even lying}

It was the empty-nester-dreams of my youth come to life, complete with the rhythmic song of cicadas outside the window. The only thing that hadn't been part of my dream, was the ipad from which he was reading - it had not yet been invented, since Steve Jobs was probably then using a TRS-80.

There we were..."just us". So this is that which had been spoken by the prophet called "my dreams". This is what it was like.

And I was overwhelmed by the goodness of God, as the sun sunk low through the panes of my golden windows.

Grace and Peace,
Sheila Atchley

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