Church.

Last year or the year before I was joking with a friend of mine about going to "church" every Sunday by going to the park and just being. I came down the stairs late this morning and immediately the dog needed to go out. Can you say no to this face?



So I got my shoes and threw a skirt over my bloomers and took him out. The moment warm sun hit my face and the only slightly cool breeze ruffled my skirt I knew today was a church day. I could feel the energy of whatever you want to call the power that exists. Whether it's a quiet hum of energy through the earth or the almighty, all-knowing presence of the Christian God doesn't really matter to me. I felt it and wasn't going to miss this opportunity. I immediately sent the kids into a whirlwind of "go outside" activity. They threw on shoes and jackets and hats and gladly hit the outdoors running.

Finn immediately started doing bunny hops on his scooter.



Zella ran up and down the driveway with her arms out yelling "Mama! When I run really fast it feels like I'm FLYING!"



Oak trailed the other kids, doing whatever they were doing, happily so.



And Winnie was her lovely, beautiful self, shining in the sunshine.



I realized right then, after snapping a couple hundred pictures of the glorious sunshine, that they feel it too. Whatever this presence is, I don't need church to feel it. It's there in sunny days and in dripping rain. It's there at my kitchen table, on my front porch, on the next block over, and all the way in Chile. It's in me, and my children, and even in the glaze of Neall's flu-dazed eyes.

And so with that on my mind I gladly fold the laundry and put away the dishes and know that it's all for a reason.