Most weekdays I sit and write at our dining room table, where I’m close enough to keep an eye on our boys but with enough distance to stay focused on my meetings and projects. I spend my days working and scrambling to find the mute button on my laptop screen and wondering whether I accidentally brewed decaf coffee that morning.
Our sons spend the day playing video games or buying up properties in Monopoly or learning the rules of badminton or eating yet another snack or meal or doing whatever two tween boys do on their summer vacation.
A few feet away from my workspace is the cage where our two little pet finches live. Sometimes they’re quiet. Other times they’re leaping and whirring around the cage, splashing in their little tub of water, pecking their way through their food, and engaging in chirpy dialogue.
Outside my window is our back deck where we have a flowering basket that has been the home to a family of house wrens. The babies seem to have recently flown the nest, but the parents keep popping back to visit, slipping into the basket, busily doing who knows what. I like to think they’re preparing for their next little flock.
Life. It’s all around me in a hum of activity. I am surrounded by the undercurrent of noise from my children, the tiny exuberance of our pet birds, and the stories of the natural world that unfold on the other side of our windows.
Sometimes I wonder what a quiet summer day would be like. What if I were sitting by a pool, glass of lemonade in hand, book in my lap. What if summer were a peaceful time, open days stretching out ahead of me—just waiting to be filled or not?
That is not likely to be on the agenda for this summer—a summer where trips and time away are difficult to plan—and that’s OK. I’m not much good at slowing down. And I’ve never been more grateful to be healthy and home and to be with my family. I’m thankful I have a job that challenges and stretches me. I have friends who pray with me and friends who text me emojis and gifs and sisters who laugh with me. I have two little birds that rejoice over the tiniest, sweetest kernels of corn off the cob.
And I have a summer that is flying by. Somehow, in the hurry of a hectic spring that bled into a hectic summer, we have landed at the beginning of July. I can’t believe it’s here.
July is my favorite month of the year. I love the fullness of the heat and the humidity. I like being on the top of the mountain of summertime, enjoying all the richness of the season—the juicy watermelon, the glow of the lightning bugs at night, the fireworks of Independence Day, and the childish feeling I’ve never shaken in adulthood that the school year is still forever away.
As different as this July is, I plan to enjoy it. We’ll have family badminton games, all the tastes and sounds of summer, and time together. We’ll even have Orioles baseball before the end of the month—just in time for my birthday.
Welcome to July. Whether this is a month of busyness or quiet, whether you’re surrounded by a hum of activity or able to engage in peaceful contemplation, and whether you love the hot stickiness of the outdoors or crave the relief of air conditioning, I hope this is a time of abundance and growth in the best possible ways.
