The house in the afternoon

"Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." — Philippians 4:11-13

By noon the house is the temperature it is going to be for the rest of the day and there is nothing to do about it except close the curtains on the west side and turn the fan on and accept what July is offering, which is heat.

I have done the things that needed doing. The garden is watered. The kitchen is clean. The beans from this morning are in the refrigerator and the blackberries I picked yesterday are in a bowl and the mail is on the table and it is nothing that needs answering.

There is a part of the afternoon in summer that does not belong to anyone. The morning belonged to the garden and the evening will belong to the porch but the hours between one and four are nobody's and I have learned to let them be. I read. I sit in the chair by the window where the light comes in sideways. Junebug is on the back of the chair because that is where the breeze from the fan reaches and she is a cat who knows where the breeze is.

I used to feel guilty about the afternoon. I used to think I should be doing something. But I have been a woman for seventy-seven years and I have done enough somethings to have earned the right to sit in a chair with a cat and a book and let the afternoon pass without requiring anything of it.

Lord, the afternoon is mine. Thank you for it.

Ruby keeps a collection of prayers at her kitchen table. You can find them here.