I get a kick out of those wide little boy hands and the veins that run steady through your feet. I inwardly chuckle at your torn jeans and seemingly always scraped knees.
You are boy. And you're loud too. Louder than the girls that is. Your laughter is like a burst of sun exposing truths on a finger printed window. Honest, forgiving, authentic and true. You beg for me to stop and then ask again for more. "More tickles, Mama," you say. When I read in scripture that we are made in the image of God, it proves true in your laughter. For I know our Heavenly Father created such sounds to echo His reflection on earth, bringing deep satisfaction to my soul and presumably glory to Him on high.
You are strength. From early morning into night you run, jump and dig, pretending to be a super hero, a character fitting of honor and reputation. Your imagination carries you onto pirate ships sailing over the deep sea. With sword in hand you slay invisible ocean monsters to rescue the princess. Which often turns out to be me. A privilege to be your pretend princess it is - I'll gladly play the roll, for one day I know your true princess will steal your heart from my cradling arms and I'll have nothing but the memory of days gone by to feast on.
You are sensitive. Not always naturally but you're learning to hold a keen ear and eye to those around you. There's a compassion growing in you that draws your actions toward kindness, gentleness and care. I'll always guide you toward this as I know it's not your instinctive response.
You are treasured. Not just by me, but by God. You're worth every nighttime snuggle and early morning bowl of cereal. Each prayer spoken over you is more than my duty, it is my pleasure. I'm not defeated by skinned knees and bruised elbows, they are an opportunity to kiss you once more and rock your aches away. I will not grow weary when I find you in need of two baths a day or when my floors show signs of forgetful shoe wearers. You are worth it to me to lose sleep and Christmas tree ornaments over, I will not focus on what's been lost or broken. You are worth the last bit of energy I have to play and in my most tired moments I will not withhold correction from you.
You are my mission. To pour into daily. To encourage moment by moment. To walk with through each struggle and all the triumphant cresting of mountains. Motherhood is a journey and you, my boy are my most precious mission.
Life is not perfect, that's for sure. I do not live in a bubble of happiness or of completely restful nights. I do not make perfect meals or keep my house Pinterest worthy clean. My husband and I snarl at each other from time to time and I have, on occasion snapped at my children over "spilled milk".
It's true. Not just for me but for everyone. This is a broken life we live. But in the brokenness so clearly seen at times I'm truly (truly!) living a dream.
Last night Andy and I stayed up talking for over an hour. We skimmed the surface of many topics and dove deep into a select few. He may have even sang "run away train..." to me when I talked for 15 minutes straight. We laughed.
But the theme of it all, the overall box we unpacked together on our couch at midnight was the places God has snatched us from compared to where we are today. Our individual stories of living broken sinful lives apart from God (and each other) in comparison to the life we walk out today is downright astonishing.
I'm forever thankful for the quiet waters I've been led to.
In my home today....
In my home today windows are open and fresh summer air is leading my curtains in a waltz casting bouncy shadows across my living room floor.
In my home today children laugh and sing silly songs to one another as they finish last pages of arithmetic and handwriting.
In my home today beds are made and lessons on proper room tidying reviewed.
In my home today I keep my eye on that stack of books I'll (hopefully) get to swallow up this summer.
In my home today there is a toddler in training who needs equal amounts of love and discipline (which might require a tally sheet)!
In my home today the washer can be heard humming continuously as we buzz about our own work.
In my home today birds sing their unique song over the swish of the towering maple trees.
In my home today peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are eaten on the back patio while the last chapters of science are read aloud.
In my home today the sun is bright and set high in a cloudless sky sharing it's rays wherever it finds a crack or an opening.
In my home today hearts are light and cheerful - summer is on the edge of bursting full bloom and it can be felt. Excitement is in the air.
In my home today an empty spare bedroom where guests recently rested their heads is neatly made up ready for the next weary traveler.
In my home today the porch is being swept of broken hosta leaves and wild iris petals, remnants of fairy house play.
In my home today naps are taken by all who wish to rest (and some who have no choice), in which I ask myself, how many little girl bodies can fit on one hammock?
In my home today sweet tea is sipped down to the last drop, it's not gone until the ice hits you in the nose.
In my home today is correction and prayers, smiles and forgiveness, lessons learned and battles picked. We're learning day by day to live peacefully with one another, to give more than we take and exchange blessing for blessing and not hurt for hurt. Striving to be seven individuals acting as one extension of God's grace, forgiveness, blessing and gift to those around us.
"Be completely humble and gentle, be patient bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace."
"My life passes as swiftly as the evening shadows. I am withering away like grass." Psalm 102:11