The date on the calendar said fall had arrived.
Sitting in my favourite chair, wrapped in my favourite Hockey blanket, watching the yellow crisp leaves intermittently floating around me from the malibu sky confirmed it.
My view from my perch.
Many sun kissed chairs… 17 to be exact, the number that represented our wonderful growing family, along with a few tables ready for gathering, and a cozy couch or two nestled under the canopy surrounding a rustic well-used fire pit, beckoned all those who came to gather.
It was a picture my heart looked foreword to regularly.
The soft Square multi coloured pillows accompany each Muskoka chair, beckoning all to stay a while.
The crudely cut Cedar wood piled high in the homemade wood shed next to it said so.
As the perfectly charred smokies piled high in the extra large platter with all the fixings grew bigger and bigger, the laughter got louder and louder and all those who gathered imagined it to be a feast fit for a King… because it was the company that made it so.
This familiar eclectic playlist crooning in the background created the likes of a big warm hug that said, “Glad you came”.
Not far beyond the cherry colored glass hummingbird feeder lived the world my littles created.
Eight to be exact. Giving me the coveted title of Grandma… Mama for short❤️
Their shrill laughter would pierce the fall air with each pump of their little legs on the yellow seated swing Papa had built for them…. The littlest of the littles clicked in tight in the middle wanting to enjoy along with the bigger cousins.
The playhouse, a little brown wooden garage sale find, just steps away, created a world for much imagination as the little squeaky door surrounded by fake purple flowers on each side continually swung back and forth with the flow of the littles.
Their imagination was the limit as the dried dirt and tiny pebbles, along with a splash of water from the sand pails became today’s “soup of the day”… for Mama to taste of course.
By now, some of the older littles had outgrown this world, but their passion lay elsewhere as The melody of an acoustic guitar lingered in the air as their fingers ran lazily through each chord.
It was not only music to my ears… but music to my mama heart.
It was a piece of Heaven…. my piece of Heaven.
The crudely planted geraniums along with their colourful partners sat happily in the earth filled pots, seemingly smiling at the company of all who gathered.
The towering fifty-year-old Maples leaned over this little piece of Heaven as if to protect these precious moments.
And oh how precious they were.
What is the view from your perch?
Your little piece of Heaven…?
Everyone has it.
It may look very different than this one, but we all have it.
It is a gift. A gift given to each one of us from above with much, much love. And no matter what is happening in our lives, it beckons us to focus on our little piece of Heaven, a place where we can find rest for our hearts amidst the cares of this world.
What we focus on we experience deeply.
Just for today… and then… just for tomorrow, focus on the little piece of Heaven that is yours and yours alone, and thank the ultimate Giver for this precious gift…. a blessing among many others if we just take the time to look.
It’s a hope that keeps us going in the midst of all that wants to keep our hearts heavy.
All the rest that we need to take our eyes off of will grow out of focus if you find your little piece of Heaven….
if you just take a look…. a real good look.