I put the laundry in then creep into the kitchen. I make a bowl of rice chex mixed with homemade granola, almond milk poured on top.
Then I sit down at the table with my cup of tea, open my Bible and notebook.
I read while I eat, find a verse that speaks to me, and write it on the bottom of my to-do list for the day. I want to feed my soul even as I tackle my tasks, remembering why I'm doing what I do.
I pray for the kids, for Steve, for wisdom.
Then I look at the picture.
I have no idea how this photo ended up in my Bible. My mom took it once when she visited us many moons ago. It's of Jonathan at age two, sitting in a swing at a nearby playground.
Every morning without fail, I take a few quiet moments and look at that photo. I see sweetness: chubby fingers, a gentle innocence, joy. I see days I'll never get back again.
Incredibly, I don't remember the challenges of that time when I see Jonathan on that swing--I just remember the love.
Then I remind myself that the today I am living with will soon be like that photo--a memory. I thought the all-consumingness of toddlerhood would never end, now I look to see it...gone. I pray for eyes to see, today, for grace and joy and patience.
Then I rise, head upstairs, and greet the little ones waiting for me.
"God gave us memories that we might have roses in December."
~ J.M. Barrie
