I write words in my mind frequently. I type paragraphs and actually hit keys when I close my eyes. I phrase sentences and manipulate adjectives throughout my day, waiting for the opportunity to sit down in front of the keyboard and start typing.
I can vividly see a ten-year-old child in the mobile home I grew up in. I would sit at my parents' desk behind an old manual typewriter. I would type stories and paragraphs and poems and biographies. My father had a computer in his office at work. My memories of sitting there are also incredibly prominent in my mind. Green words on a black screen.
I have always loved to write. And I have especially loved to type. Those of you who know me personally know that I type fast. I type very fast. When I applied for a job at Mayo Clinic, they asked me to take a typing test, and when the results popped out, the man behind the counter scrunched up his nose and looked at me like I had cheated. 160 words per minute at that test.
And the words fly through my head as fast as I can type them most of the day. I am constantly waiting, searching, for a moment to sit down at our big Turkish desk in the living room of our new farm house and begin letting what is in my head fly onto the screen.
And yet when I try, to capture in words, what my life has become in the last thirty days, I feel like I keep falling short. The words are flying around in my brain, but I just can't make them come together succinctly. They are jumbled. They are disorganized.
But they are happy.
And because I can't get them to fly together in some sort of eloquent structure, I instead will tell you, in simple sentences, what my new life has become.
Today I picked blackberries with my children on our land. There are more berries than we can probably ever pick. And we giggled and dodged thorns and then sat at the kitchen table eating blackberries out of our little bowls.
Today I sat in a pen of a dozen geese as they got used to life outside of a brooder. I watched as they began their job of mowing our yard and giggled as they let me pet and scratch them.
Today I bathed my children in the pool outside our house. They were already wet so I just grabbed some shampoo and washed them outside -- with no neighbors anywhere close enough to spy.
Today I learned how to feed and water the guinea fowl and ducks and geese. I'm going to be taking over more responsibility with the animals and while I'm not really sure where I'll find the time, I'm excited to have a chore outside of my indoor responsibilities.
Today I hung clothes for my laundry line. No one cares that I have one. No one thinks it's an eye-sore.
Today I tried a new church with my family and met the man who appraised our farm. The small town is such an incredible thing. It's truly hard to get used to it.
Today I purchased some ice at the gas station in preparation for the youth group coming to help us next week. The lady behind the counter called me Sweetie, Honey, and Darling before I got out the door.
Today I helped my husband load garbage into the back of his truck for a drive to the dump. There is no garbage truck to come by and pick up our waste.
Today I received text messages from the UPS and Fed-Ex delivery trucks as they placed packages down by our front gate. The hill is so steep, we can't see them or the packages they leave behind down there so we've agreed upon this system.
Today I watched as my children had races rolling down a hill in our yard.
Today I watched as my husband turned toward me as we cleaned up more junk the previous owners have left behind and said, "I love my life." He is so happy. He is working the equivalent of two full time jobs and is more content than I have ever seen him.
Today I sat typing this blog while I listened to the rain pour down on the mountain we live on. I am tired. I am working hard. My days are full. But I can't help but think that agreeing to move out to the country and start a whole new life was the best decision I ever made. We belong here. This is where God wants us without a shadow of a doubt. It will not be easy. But this place feels more like home than anywhere I have ever called home.
I love it here.
I love my life.
And that's the best I can do in making sense of the words flitting around in my head.
I hope they meant as much to you in reading them as they mean to me in my heart.