The flat terrain of ordinary days is as transformative as the extreme peaks and valleys we journey, a journey with January as a natural starting line for most. Identifying as an enneagram four type, sometimes described as a "frustrated idealist," I inevitably find my attention drawn to what is lacking, what needs a fix. Envisioning beauty and goodness propels me to keep working toward solutions, while other times I spiral into discouragement. The results can be helpful responses or harmful reactions. Working and praying with this wisdom for over a decade now, I know this tendency touches every corner of my world.

Fall has fallen—earlier sunsets, layered clothing, cooler nights. This evening, I am sitting where a breeze carries a pleasant pine scent through an open window, and motorcycles hum around curves in the county road nearby. The TV is off tonight while my husband and I each work out a Sudoku puzzle. Our Australian Shepherds lie near our feet like throw rugs. An owl makes its clicking sound as it glides past outside hunting rabbits, moles, mice. This brings to mind being startled by a covey of quail erupting from the dogwood hedge beside the sprawling cantaloupe I was watering today. And dinner. Everything but the salmon was from our garden. I notice myself accidentally smiling. Contentment.

Two Australian shepherds live in my home. They lie on the kitchen floor like random throw rugs scattered underfoot when we are cooking. For everyone’s good, we are training them to stay in their “place” when instructed. They are reluctant but content once they surrender. I am being likewise trained.

By age fifteen, my family and I had lived in as many homes. I have always thought I was made for hotels and airports. So, it was an adjustment when my young husband, who travelled weekly for work before marriage, said, “I like to be home!” I had little understanding of “place.”