Golden light stretches its gentle fingers over the pastures this morning as dew dances delightfully diamond like over the tall grass.  The windows are still open with cool moisture streaking down, saturating wooden panes.  The week begins as usual, with a list of to-do’s a mile long.  Such is my life.  Regardless of lists and things that feel urgent, I remember that they aren’t.  Life is not an emergency.  It is not a frantic running from one task to the next, crossing off with strokes of ink, each moment.

I want to breathe it all in.  Savor.  Love.

I want to live fully through this body, the vibrance of gloriously red ripe strawberries, purchased from a roadside stand of berry stained beautiful little faces of farm children.  I want to feel their shape in my hands as I clean and prepare them for jam, smell their tantalizing sweetness as juice runs down my hands when I slice through.   I want to remember the light as it shines through quilted jelly jars, and the loving feeling of preserving the harvest, quietly working with my hands to nurture and nourish my family through the fruitless winter months.

I want to believe that my mama heart is enough.  That my life is not lived in vain.  That living a simple, quiet life truly is a calling.  That I don’t have to save the world, all Wonder Woman like.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Wonder Woman.  I believe that we all have that fierce warrior-ess heart, and we get to direct it where we will.  Some will save the world, all very dramatic and exciting, and others of us will save or change the world right here in our very homes, our very hearts, and the worlds of those around us.

What if how we change or save the world is by how we live our lives?

What if rather than striving for something bigger, better, we just start living each day, each moment to it’s maximum capacity of beauty, joy, and delight?

What if we embrace our children, look deeply into their eyes, walk hand in hand, and heart to heart, rather than be immersed in the computer, or building a business, or career, or distracted by whatever.  What if we just don’t miss our life, while trying to create it?

Letting go of big ideas, big children, big hopes, and big things is not always easy, but it is a part of this wild and wondrous life.  What if we try, and we don’t like who we need to become to make something work?  Do we stay the course, just because we tried?  Sometimes.  And Sometimes not.  What if we let go and they fall?  What if we fall?  We dust them and ourselves off, we love deeply, look into those eyes, and say that we are enough, this life is enough, and experiencing these moments allows us to understand what our deepest core truths and desires are.

We hold tightly to those who know, those who love, and those who understand that striving isn’t living, falling isn’t dying, and trying doesn’t mean we didn’t give it our best shot.  It’s in the trying, the falling, the depth of the journey that we learn the oceanic deep lessons.  We learn what we want and who we are.  We understand our own grit, tenacity, that we are stronger than we know, and we get to choose how we want to live, and experience the beauty of this life.  The beauty includes the bones.  The stripping away, the raw, naked experience of soul.

It is in this state of origin, that we can come back to simple. Back to basics. Back to what it is that feeds our soul, ignites our fire, and fuels our days.  Back to home.  Back to love.

For me, it is the beauty in the mundane, the sacred in the everyday.  God among us, angels we meet on streets, in stores, or along dirt roads and veggie stands. It is the ordinary routine, the nurturing those souls under my own humble roof, and the eyes we may be aligned with to gaze into daily.

This is what enough looks like to me.

Loving, living, working shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, in the here and now, the everyday ordinary.  This is sacred work.  This is soul work.  To simplify, to grow your own food and children, to nurture and love those that you are blessed to be a part of their lives. To walk barefoot on dusty trails, to hold hands, and shape hearts, to talk of dreams, and desires, spending evenings over s’mores and firefly lit campfires.

This living is what counts.

The day to day.  The quiet moment.  Each breath.  Each heartbeat.  Each kiss goodnight, and good morning. Every meal gathered round the family table.  Every prayer and blessing poured out of hearts.  This is our calling, this is our journey home.

It is more than enough.