Worry for today.
Fear for tomorrow.
Something with which to fill my time.
In the above box is where I find myself – too often. I fall into that pit. And I stay there.
I wallow there.
He woke up sweetly. Drinking his milk, he climbed into my bed and wrapped his sun-tanned arms around around my back.
You ready for your coffee, Mommy?
Daddy, time for Mommy’s coffee. She likes cream but no sugar.
Coffee down, body up.
Three-year-old boy ready to begin his day.
“I’d like a snack in a super hero bag, and we can put it in my backpack. Daddy is going to take me, and you can come too, Mommy. But don’t tell David. He’s too little.”
Toast and peanut butter and honey for breakfast. A probiotic drink for the immune system.
He was beaming.
He was going to school. Vacation Bible School.
For a boy who has been home with Mom his entire life, this day was as good as the first day of kindergarten.
Reminded of my own ‘adultness’ – that unspoken of characteristic that develops as hearts harden and dreams fade, I paused for a moment and realized how special this day was.
I got on his level.
We talked about every detail.
Celebrate random Tuesdays.
When I married Chris, this motto was one thing I loved about him and his family. It doesn’t have to be a special occasion – it can be merely a random weekday – to celebrate.
Daniel hopped into Daddy’s car. Off they went.
I’ll pick him up at noon. I will bring him the brand new super hero book he has been begging for. Maybe I can even talk his daddy into using some budget money for a dinner out tonight.
God is good.
He gave me life.
He gave me his son.
He gave me today.
They tell of the power of your awesome works—
and I will proclaim your great deeds.
They celebrate your abundant goodness
and joyfully sing of your righteousness.
The LORD is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and rich in love. –Psalm 145:6-8