It was a sleepover at Grandma’s house this past weekend.
We had three of our grandchildren here, Friday afternoon until Saturday after dinner.
Favorite toys were set up in the family room.
The gates were placed near the front stairs for our one-year-old grandson who loves to climb.

Our two granddaughters, his sisters, love to ring the doorbell when they arrive.
It doesn’t matter that the garage is open for the entire family to come inside.
They like to ring the doorbell because they like to surprise me that they are here.
Of course, an Academy Award performance on my part is in order.

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I was thinking about song lyrics.
It was from the album, Signs of Life, by Steven Curtis Chapman.
I used to play it in the car as I drove  my children here and there.
One stanza in particular kept repeating in my mind.

Now I’ve got crayons rolling around in the floorboard of my car
Bicycles all over my driveway, bats and balls all over my yard
And there’s a plastic man from outer space sitting in my chair
The signs of life are everywhere

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I needed to bring something over to my daughter.
I planned to stop by before I headed out to lunch at a friend’s house.
I texted my daughter when I was leaving.
I reminded her that I couldn’t stay very long.

The reminder wasn’t for her as much as for my grandchildren.
My two granddaughters are always excited when Grandma came over.
Their brother, my grandson is excited to see me as well.
However, at nine months old, he can’t anticipate the visit like his sisters.

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It is said that everyone has a love language.
A love language is how you manifest love to another.
It is also how you desire love to be manifested to you.
It always sounded very complicated to me.

However, through the years, I saw that there is indeed a pattern.
I see it in my family as they interact with each other.
I see it in me as I love them.
It really is our default response.

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How I love my morning walk.
I love the solitude.
I love what I see.
I love what I hear.

I am always amazed at how the littlest, simplest thing can be the most profound.
It is not that I am more astute.
I look for things.
I seek to be aware of my surroundings.

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I was getting ready to have two friends over for brunch.
I got up and decided not to walk that morning.
I had cooking and baking to do, which I thoroughly enjoy.
I was still in my pajamas, knowing that I would dress after I finished everything.

I was listening to a podcast as I worked.
I looked at the clock and saw that I had forty-five minutes before my friends arrived.
Satisfaction.
Much was accomplished by not going on my walk.

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The mother of my daughter-in-love came to visit.
She was driving from the South up to New England.
She was stopping along the way to visit with family.
She wanted to stop at our home as well.

I was so delighted that she wanted to visit.
You must stay over, I texted back.
The invitation was welcome because of all the driving she was doing.
The invitation was sincere, since a long conversation over a cup of tea was long overdue.

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My husband and I were getting ready to go out to dinner.
We would be with others at the table.
I chose to wear a new pair of black ankle pants.
They were hanging in my closet but I had never worn them before.

I picked a shirt, shoes, and purse to complete the outfit.
I was ready a few minutes after I said I would be downstairs.
I felt rushed that night.
My husband wasn’t rushing me; it was something inside me that felt rushed.

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I was sitting in the periodontist’s office.
I was simply there for a checkup.
I came to the appointment on time but the doctor was running late.
I was placed in a blue room, in a dentist chair.

I sat there and wondered why so many dentist offices are painted blue.
It is said that the color blue is calm and tranquil.
The color blue is said to bring down blood pressure.
A soft blue is soothing, relaxing, and serene.

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I went to a conference over the weekend.
It was a creativity conference recognizing the importance of collaboration and community.
The conference itself was called The Inklings Conference.
The Inklings were a group of writers who gathered at the University of Oxford.

The group consisted of writers, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Owen Barfield to name a few.
The men met for almost twenty years.
They shared their writing and discussed their works in progress.
Feedback and encouragement were the order of the day.

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