Whenever I walk home from church I make a point
of taking this one street that is full of dreamy, perfect houses
that make me feel like I’m in a movie. Certainly if I had to live in this city all
my life, I’d like a house on this street. It always feels like spring
walking down it, no matter the season, and it never fails to cheer up my
step and bring a smile to both my face and my heart, as cheesy as that
may sound. I'm glad I had my camera with me this past Sunday so that I could finally document and write about it. This is something I don’t want to forget.
So I didn't feel quite comfortable taking pictures of the actual houses this time around. But I think I will go back soon and maybe make a photo project out of admiring my favorite details of this street, including the dainty, dream-like houses. Maybe I can even get a snap of that cute elderly couple that sometimes work in their garden together. Maybe I can actually manage to capture a close-to-accurate depiction of the charm this little place has, for the sake of long-term remembrance.
When I look back on my times on this street, I want to be able to remember the awe and wonder that it brought to my mind. I want to remember how excited I would get at any chance to walk home just to experience this once more. I don't want to forget how some days walking past there felt like I was on a pioneer trek, not because of the weather or the distance, but because of how I felt; absolutely alone or held up by angels, weak or brave, angry or just plain confused. I want to remember the early seminary mornings that feel so long behind me now. I don't want to forget how it felt walking past there on my way to school at 7:20am. I should have felt sleepy or tired, but I actually felt invigorated. I felt grateful and hopeful. Every single time. The sun seemed to literally shine brighter, the flowers were merrier, the rain was bolder. The fog felt light and loving all around. The whole world seemed to greet me and congratulate me on how beautifully the seed of faith was being nurtured and growing inside me.
When I look back on my times on this street, I want to be able to remember the awe and wonder that it brought to my mind. I want to remember how excited I would get at any chance to walk home just to experience this once more. I don't want to forget how some days walking past there felt like I was on a pioneer trek, not because of the weather or the distance, but because of how I felt; absolutely alone or held up by angels, weak or brave, angry or just plain confused. I want to remember the early seminary mornings that feel so long behind me now. I don't want to forget how it felt walking past there on my way to school at 7:20am. I should have felt sleepy or tired, but I actually felt invigorated. I felt grateful and hopeful. Every single time. The sun seemed to literally shine brighter, the flowers were merrier, the rain was bolder. The fog felt light and loving all around. The whole world seemed to greet me and congratulate me on how beautifully the seed of faith was being nurtured and growing inside me.
I would absolutely love to remember.
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