my country road

Awe

Image | | Marie Griffith

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When I stop to take a photo it’s because something about what I’m seeing has to be captured. And most of the time it’s not just one thing. It’s the whole of it.

A shed and a greenhouse in the middle of a lush field on a hot July evening. No filters or edits needed.

The rosy sky and the emerald field. The tall grass in the foreground and the trees in the back. And the magnificent sun settling down. The beauty is overwhelming, the colors astounding……and I get to see things like this every day if I will just look.

I was walking on my country roads when I took this photo. My old country roads where I used to live. I was probably tired from a day’s work with more to do when I finished my walk. Whatever my mood when I started, I was in a better one when I was through.

Because I’m in awe. And grateful. And I pray I never get used to this.

The heavens declare the glory of God,
    and the skies announce what his hands have made.
Day after day they tell the story;
    night after night they tell it again.
They have no speech or words;
    they have no voice to be heard.
But their message goes out through all the world;
    their words go everywhere on earth.
The sky is like a home for the sun.
The sun comes out like a bridegroom from his bedroom.
    It rejoices like an athlete eager to run a race.
The sun rises at one end of the sky
   and follows its path to the other end.
    Nothing hides from its heat.

Psalm 19:1-6 NCV

My Groove

| Marie Griffith

Since the move to my new town I’ve lost my running groove. I can’t find the place I want to run…..or like to run. There’s more traffic so I’ve not explored much. My daughter and I crossed the highway Saturday and found a small neighborhood there.

But it’s not my country roads. I think I didn’t know how much I liked the country and the roads there and the quiet there. I didn’t mind running in the dark sometimes because I knew the roads. I knew the people in the houses and dogs in their yards. I didn’t mind the one car or old truck that drove slowly past while I was running.

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My country road

My husband told me last night that I may have to do what I don’t want to do. He reminded me that there are parks and high school tracks in town. And I reminded him that I don’t want to get in my car and drive somewhere to run. I want to step out of my front door and run.

So today I stepped out of my front door and ran. Two miles up and down the dead-end road I live on now. Back and forth….to the highway…..then down to the neighbors……again and again. I ran last week
too, but shorter distances because….well……it got old. This is what the route looks like on my Runkeeper app.

But guimageess what? It was a great run this morning. So I go back and forth on the same road. I’ll get used to the burly boxer barking at me from his back yard and the two little dogs in their fence. I’ll get used to the highway traffic. Maybe I’ll start waving to the traffic as I turn around to run back down to the neighbors. Then wave again when I come back to the highway and again and again. And maybe I’ll cross the highway and run in that neighborhood soon.

All I know, is that I want to run. So I’m gonna run.

And I’ll get my groove back.

 

“The good Lord gave you a body that can stand most anything. It’s your mind you have to convince.”                              Vince Lombardi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13 Years Here

| Marie Griffith

The renovations on the inside of my childhood home are complete. The guys we hired to do the hard stuff have done a fantastic job and it’s beautiful.

Tomorrow we’ll begin to move our life from one place to another. I’ve already moved some of the small stuff. Boxes of old pictures, books, and wall hangings are there at the new house.

But the old house still holds most of our things. And memories. Lots of memories……13 years worth. It’s been a good place to us. Lots of good times have happened here. We imagehave the best neighbors in the world and the most beautiful country roads you’ve ever seen. The people here are hard working people. The kind that stop to talk to you when you’re walking on the country roads. They’ve heard we’re moving….so they stop and ask about it.

I’ll miss that. The community I’ve felt here. I’ll miss Mr. Billy and his wife, Brenda, stopping by in the fall and blowing the horn for me to come out of the house to see if I want to buy 25 lbs of sweet potatoes or some collard greens. We always visit awhile and I look at pictures of his sweet great grandchildren.

I’ll miss Mr. Jimmy. His 30 plus acres are right beside our place. He let the kids stomp and romp all over that land. They fished in his ponds, climbed on his hay bales, rode his horses, borrowed anything from his barn (as long as they put it back), and built forts there, too. They’ve long since outgrown all that but they will remember imageit forever.

I’ll miss our Christmases here. Our live tree took up almost the whole living room but it was okay because it was Christmas. And we barely had room to open the gifts when extra family was here.

I’ll miss the walks on my country road. The quiet and beauty. The cotton growing, the horses neighing, and the cows grazing.  The sound in the summer of the crickets and frogs and cicadas. The pecan trees and blackberry bushes.

We’ve grown in this place. Not just older, but better. Along with the good, there’ve been hard times here, too. We’ve laughed and cried here. We’ve been healed here and loved here.

It’s all been so good to us.

I’m so thankful for the years in our little home in the country.

In response to the Daily Post’s Neighbors

Rising

Image | | Marie Griffith

I’ve always loved morning time. It’s my time…….mostly.

Recently I started running in the mornings. I begin when it’s dark but by the time I’m finished the sun is peeking over the edge of the small hills on my country road.

A sunrise is another beginning. Another chance. Another day to love and laugh and cry. Another day to live like it matters.

A sunrise could be the start of a brand new way of living. It brings a whole bunch of new opportunities. It could bring laughter and joy and forgiveness. And healing and compassion.

A sunrise is hope rising and light shining into our darkest seasons.

Since I’ve begun this new thing I’ve seen more beautiful sunrises in the past 6 months than I have my entire life.

The sunrises have been there all along. I just wasn’t there to see them.

I don’t want to miss anymore sunrises.

But as for me, I will hope continually, And will praise You yet more and more.   Psalm 71:14

In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge Ascend.