Through a Window

It is finally Spring! Or...at least Spring-y enough to let me pretend it will last.

We were able to work outside today. As I was working with all the kidlins and hubby, I was reminded of a Spring-time memory that I had recorded a few years ago on my xanga. I want to share it with you!

I named it then "Through a Window". Kinda reminds me of one of my favorite book names "A Window in Thrums" by J.M. Barrie. I like the book but not really as much as I like the name. yeh, I know I'm kinda weird like that. I like Paint color names , too! :)

Anyhow let's take a peek through my window that Spring ....

  I chanced to glance out the window, across the tiny stream, to the children's play area under the arbor of plum trees. An old bench sits under the lilac bush.The swing set is bedecked with a red sheet across the support bars of the seesaw. From under the sheet small bare feet and the hemline of a yellow jumper is showing. The sheet trembles......
Wait....I am looking through the window into a grand old hall, the high overhead beams of a towering cathedral ceiling frame a rich wine tapestry sweeping the marble floor of the stage. The curtain trembles....
...then is thrown aside with a dramatic flourish. Poised , there she is.... in a shimmering yellow gown of the finest taffeta with matching slippers. From my vantage point, even outside the window, I can hear the gasp of the audience. She tips her head , smiles, steps out from the curtain, down the step and bows in a dainty curtsy.
Stepping softly, she begins a slow pirouette across the stage. She is speaking now, though I can't catch all the words, I know it is an old tender ballad spoken in tones clear and low. The audience leans in to hear her every word. She is the favorite, the one whom they all have waited to see and hear.
She continues across center stage and seats herself gracefully on a tufted settee under the hanging draperies. Now the sweet low tones of the poetry give way to a song of tinkling bell-like notes. She is singing. Again the people hang on every note....she finishes the song with one last flutelike note....
The spell is broken.... my small barefoot daughter rises from the bench, all make-believe gone and slowly crosses the old bridge across the little stream toward the house. I let out my breath and sigh... then smile..
Oh, for the imagination of a child once again.... for the ability to turn the ordinary in to the extra ordinary....to take a swing, an old sheet , a grassy spot.....and turn it into a place of beauty and grandeur.....fit for royalty!!!
... Or to take a mop, a tea towel, a livingroom carpet.... and turn it into a place of beauty and peace fit for royalty ... my husband, my children.....
... Oh, for the faith to see that I must take my sin stained heart....my weary spirit... my unworthy soul and give it to the One that can turn it into ROYALTY!!!
Lord, give me the heart of a child , able always to see the beauty in the ordinary and imagine the impossible....