Tuesday, August 21

12:37 am

sometimes in the middle of the night when it's quiet,
i stop. i think.
i write.
i steal little bites of a dark chocolate bar.

and i see the gifts.
they are right in front of me.
i get so busy looking ahead
that i forget to look right here.

and then when my world is sleepy and stopped until tomorrow, 
and it's just me with no distractions,
i see them.

books on the floor, left crinkled and opened by little hands.
ava's dolly next to her chair, ready for a new day of patting and kissing.
a clean kitchen and put away dishes (and a husband who lovingly did it).
my soul warmed from an evening of mochas and friendship.
and a trader joe's bag on the counter filled with nourishment and satisfaction. 

yes. as i sit here and decide to let go,  
and give away the worries and guilt and questions to the One who tells me I don't need them,
it's then that i can sit and see that He takes care of me right here
and blesses me with so many things 
that i so easily can look beyond and miss to see.

Tuesday, August 7

Scotch Tape and Eric Carle

Earlier on, 
I found Molly and Ava reading the same book. 
As in, the same copy.
Eric Carle's Opposites
was now not one book, but two.

I started to feel myself getting frustrated.
I like things to stay nice and put together
and Ava and Molly have been in a destructive mood lately.
Food all over the floor, toys dumped and chewed on, 
and I'm pretty sure that they must have a pet beaver hidden somewhere
by the extensive bite marks all over their cribs.

But in all honesty,
when I took a step back and saw the girls reading quietly, 
I realized it wasn't a big deal.
It's just stuff.
Plus they were sharing. 
That is a big deal.

So tonight, 
I'll dig in my junk drawer for scotch tape
and bandage the little wounded book up
and place it on the shelf
but today,
I'm just going to let them enjoy this book apart, together.