As you all know, we bought our very first house! Said house is move-in-ready, to an extent, but it does need some sprucing up. We also are taking the opportunity before we move in to do a big amazing kitchen renovation (on a dime). Stage one of the renovation involves me painting the existing cabinets a dreamy, moody deep green. It took us a while to settle on the paint color. At one point I had pieces of poster board hanging up on the walls of our rental house kitchen with large swaths of various paints on them to see which one we liked the best.

The color we ended up deciding on on Valspar’s Wilderness, and I’m largely the one painting the cabinets, often alone and in the evenings after my husband is home from work and the family has been fed. A few days ago, I was finished for the day with painting and washing my roller out in the kitchen sink when I noticed the most beautiful sunset peaking through the backyard fence. I kind of smiled and wished I wasn’t cleaning up so I could go see it, when I realized I could just…take a break! I dropped the very green brushes and roller covers into the sink basin, washed my hands, and ran upstairs for the best view of the very first sunset I would see on my new property. It was quiet and stunning. I took some moments to myself and then face-timed my husband so that we could enjoy it together.

My girls have been working on memorizing Psalm 19, and in doing so, I have memorized it. The words that have gently settled into my heart rang clear in that moment: “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.” I also love the last verse of that chapter, “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, oh Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” What a gift a sunset is. What a gift a savior is, a solid rock to rest my worldly worries on.

I hope I always put the dirty paint brushes in the sink in favor of the sunset. I hope I always choose worship of my God over worship of a to-do list.

(And because this blog is honest and real, I didn’t crop out the fence in need of repair or the toppled over, leopard-print planter. I think it makes it even more meaningful, in a way.)