He is There

I am so happy to share that (drumroll please) my kitchen renovation is about halfway complete! 

I have been pulling double shifts and painting until midnight. Tonight I was overcome with an overwhelming emotion of school girl giddiness. I can attempt to explain it no other way. I was painting away and I looked around the room and I felt some peace. Yes, peace and excitement, at the same time. All I could imagine was my family all together in our new kitchen. I could see my kiddos eating their pancakes at the table. I could see me running around and grabbing requested items, coffee cup in hand. I could picture my hubs shaking his head as our oldest squeezed too much syrup on to his fluffy pile of flapjacks. 

I have been dreaming of this kitchen for two years now. Thanks to my mom and stepdad, it has finally started to look like something from my dreams. Mom has been my coach. She explains the process of the things we are doing and she double and triple checks my work. She gives me advice and she has been the visionary on the plans for what I wanted. My stepdad is just an all-around craftsman. He can build just about anything! It truly is amazing to see someone make ideas become reality. I honestly hope that my children can learn so much from him in the years to come. I want them to be independent young men who are not afraid to craft awesomeness. 

The school year can be such a stressful time for us. I look forward to many happy Saturday mornings spent in the improved space. I promise to post “after” pictures when I have everything completed and things are in their rightful places. Right now…I will share a few from before we got started.


Also, I wanted to say a special thank you to my dad. He has been on my mind during this whole project. In the midst of night, while I am in there painting away, he is heavy in my heart. I feel like my sweat and tears are helping me to breath some of his soul into this kitchen. I feel he would be proud of my trying to do something challenging and fulfilling. I feel he would want me to have a happy place as my stress-free zone. I feel…him. He is there. He is happy. He is my peace. 

An Hour

I read in a book that everyone has an hour each day when time stands still. An hour of calm. An hour of meaning. An hour of clarity. This hour is different for everyone. The book correlated this hour with the hour of birth. Apparently a proverb says that the hour in which a person is born is “their hour.” I think this may be true. I haven’t seen my birth certificate in a few years, but 4:00 a.m. seems to be my hour. I have an overwhelming feeling of happiness at 4:00 a.m. I feel closest to God at 4:00 a.m. The day is new. The slate is clean. Yes, 4:00 a.m., I own you.
I enjoy just sitting propped up on pillows. I listen to the sounds of our home. The breathing of the baby. The bark of a dog down the road. I also leave the television on the World News channel (I like to know things). I had a professor in college who taught a communications class. We had a quiz every morning about what was going on in the news. In college, I worked late hours and thought sleep was better than gold. The last thing I wanted to do before class three days a week was check websites for news. Looking back, I know she was trying to teach us a very important lesson. I think the lesson was that we should seek to know relevant things. We should seek to care about the things going on around us and not just the things happening to us. I feel that I benefited from this professor. I may not know or understand everything that is going on in the news, but I darn sure know something about what is happening. 4:00 a.m. is my time to get educated on these things.
When the news stories start to repeat, I change the channel to the country music videos. This is soothing to me. I don’t watch. I just turn the volume to the lowest audible setting and prepare my mind for the day ahead. This could mean a prayer to God. It could mean a to do list. It could mean dreams about the future or reminiscing about the past.
Yes, I know my hour. I know it well. What’s yours?

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