People often ask me what it’s like to be married to Santa.
The truth is, most of the year, it’s pretty ordinary.
We drink coffee on the porch every morning. We wander through the garden to see what’s growing overnight. We debate whether the tomatoes are ever going to turn red. We laugh at the squirrels, rabbits, and whatever other little critter has decided our yard belongs to them.
It’s just life.
Of course, every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of Santa, even in the middle of July.
Richard has always loved being Santa. I honestly think he was made for it. The beard, the twinkle in his eye, that deep laugh…it all just fits. Once he puts on the red suit, something happens. People smile before he even says a word. Children wave. Grown-ups wave. Complete strangers stop to visit.
For a few minutes, people forget about all the things they’re worried about.
I like watching that.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love Christmas so much. Not because of the decorations or the presents, but because it reminds us that wonder isn’t just for children.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot this summer.
As I walk through the garden each morning, I’m reminded that good things rarely happen overnight. Tomatoes don’t ripen because we wish they would. Flowers bloom in their own time. We water, weed, wait, and trust. Somewhere along the way, I think our hearts grow right alongside the garden.
This July has also reminded me how quickly the seasons of life change. One day you’re watching children chase fireflies across the yard, and before you know it, they’re grown, building lives of their own, creating traditions for the next generation. It’s a beautiful reminder that while time never stands still, love has a remarkable way of carrying us from one season to the next.
I’ve also learned that we never outgrow the joy of beginning something new. Whether it’s learning a new skill, planting a different variety in the garden, trying a family recipe, or finally pursuing a dream you’ve carried for years, life still has wonderful surprises waiting for us.
Perhaps that’s the quiet gift of July.
It gives us room to notice.
To notice the laughter around the table.
The first ripe tomato still warm from the vine.
A conversation on the porch that lingers a little longer than expected.
The faithful friend who checks in just because.
The beauty of an ordinary Tuesday that will someday become one of our treasured memories.
Christmas has taught our family that the greatest gifts cannot be wrapped.
They are measured in time shared, kindness offered, meals enjoyed together, prayers whispered, forgiveness extended, and love freely given.
Those are gifts that never wear out.
Before this busy summer slips into autumn, I hope you’ll pause long enough to notice one quiet gift that cannot be bought. Perhaps it’s a sunset, a grandchild’s laughter, a bloom in your garden, or simply a peaceful cup of coffee on the porch.
Those ordinary moments have a way of becoming the memories we treasure most.
Until next month,
From our porch to yours,
Lori