A Dwindled Dawn

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
~Emily Dickinson in a letter to a friend April 1885

Adjusting to our children being grown and moved away from home took time: for months, I instinctively grabbed too many plates and utensils when setting the table, though the laundry and dishwasher loads seemed skimpy I washed anyway, the tidiness of their bedrooms was frankly disturbing as I passed by.

I need a little mess and noise around to feel that living is actually happening under this roof and that all is well. That quarter century of raising children consisted of nonstop parenting, farming, working, playing – never finding enough hours in the day and hardly enough sleep at night. It was a full to overflowing phase of life.

Somehow, life now is too quiet, and I am dwindling.

Though now I know:
despite missing our children here, they have thrived where planted.
And so must I.

Each morning is new, each dawn softens the void, and each diminishing moment becomes a recognition of how truly blessed life can be.

5 thoughts on “A Dwindled Dawn

  1. Having retired several years ago and having children and grandchildren leading lives on their own trajectories, there’s now time to luxuriate in beauty and spiritual mystery. This discovery is evolving, sometimes hard-won and steadily surprising. Emily, your photos, poetry and essays nurture this period in my life. I hope you can absorb my gratitude.

    When time expands for you I recommend: Frederick Buechner, “The Longing for Home”, and Margaret Guenther “Just Passing Through: Notes from a Sojourner.”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am so fortunate to have 9 of my 12 grandchildren within 15 minutes of my new mini farm. This year there will be 3 graduating from high school and 1 from 8th grade. None at the same school. It has been just over 2 years since dear Eli passed away and a few weeks ago, it seemed as I’m coming out of a fog. (Not that I haven’t been functioning.) So this evening, I actually sat on a wonderful log bench under a fantastic oak tree with a mug of hot cocoa and a small fire in my firepit. It was a great way to reflect on God’s day and grace. Thanks Emily for sharing your heart with us.

    Liked by 1 person

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