How to fill an Empty Cup

It’s that time of the year again.  My boy and girl started back to school for the fall and I am refilling my cup.  A cup that had become so empty that I could almost see the pale blue bottom.  We had a good summer, really.  My boy and girl, husband and I.  Drinking-in the ocean air, cheering on my girl during her first summer of swim team, holding my first art show,  reading and napping on the couch in the afternoons, sitting poolside, visiting amusement parks, and even celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary (just my husband and I!) on a cruise to the Bahamas.  All good things.  At the same time, by the end of August, I found myself feeling empty.

Those last weeks of August always seem to be the hardest weeks of the summer.  We’ve done just about all the summer activities on our bucket list and everyone is just a bit bored and antsy.  Antsy for the next season to begin.  For my boy and girl, the next season entails seeing friends and favorite teachers, soaking-up new information, recess(!), and the comfort of familiar, predictable school routines.  For me, fall means quiet-time.

For an introvert like me, quiet-time is like morning coffee.  Quiet-time to meditate, pray, read uplifting words and scripture, reflect, and really hear God whispering to my heart.  And while I had the best intentions of making this a daily routine during the summer, somewhere along the way, it became easier to spend those opportunities sleeping just a little bit later, checking-in on what everyone else was up to on Facebook, or fitting-in a phone call while my boy and girl were occupying themselves.  So, it’s no surprise that I found myself running empty during those last weeks of August.  So empty that I started to wonder where my art and words would come from when I did finally settle down by myself.

And then, the big yellow bus came earlier this week.  For just a few moments, I felt a little lonely without my two sidekicks beside me, chattering away.  But after making a cup of tea in my new favorite blue tea-cup (a beach vacation treasure), grabbing my journal, favorite devotional, and Bible, I stepped out onto the deck and smiled.  This is nice.   I pulled a wrought-iron chair up to the table and initiated a long, needed chat with God.  Not just the few phrases that I hurriedly prayed throughout the summer, but heartfelt words and questions penned in ink across my journal pages and then long, luxurious spaces of quiet, just spent listening.  Listening to the cicadas.  Listening to the birds. And listening to God.

I am intentionally leaving room for lots of these quiet-moments over the next few weeks.  I trust that once my cup is full, once again, there will be plenty more inspiration spilling over the sides.

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