My maternal grandparents owned a farm. The house was charming, but I often wondered how a family of ten could inhabit the space comfortably. It was a two-story home with no bathroom until much later on. I would often spend summers in that place. Through my time there I discovered hiding places, old chapter books, romance magazines and an amazing view out the window, while sitting on a window seat. Maybe that’s where I developed my love for looking out the window. The road leading to the house was lined with tall lodgepole pine trees which stood like sentries guarding the way. I intensely watched as farm hands worked the land, birds nested in the arms of those trees and furry critters scurried here and thee. All this was observed while cuddled up on that window seat, with a book in my lap.
This habit of looking out the window has been a constant in my life. Today, we live in an old farmhouse with four tall windows in the dining room. I usually write my daily blog from this spot. I don’t have a window seat, but I still can enjoy the beauty of God’s creation, without having to leave the house. In spring and summer, the birth ad new life appears in the form of green grass and flowers. In Autumn, the colors come to life and invade the trees like the palette of an incomparable artist. In winter there is a blanket of glistening snow to gaze upon.
There is something magical about looking out the window, until we start seeing the ugly side of life. I guess it all depends on our point of view.