Why brokenness is a blessing …
“Nap time, babygirl! Come here, please.” From across the room I could see her stiffen, prepare to protest. I gave her fair-warning. “Make a good choice. Will you say ‘yes’ or ‘no” to Mama?” There was no need to remind her of what a ‘no’ response would earn. She knows.
She stiffly, and slowly, walked over to me. Her mouth said yes and she made her feet move, but her face and demeanor were “no-ing” all the way. I picked her up, took her to the potty, and told her to go before her nap. She sat down, didn’t go, said she was done.
Outwardly obedient but deep-down defiant.
I took her into her room for the rest-time routine. Rock, snuggle, sleep. I pulled her up on my lap in the rocking chair, but she pushed away. Again, silent, but stiff as a board and at arm’s length. I carried her over, crawled under the quilt at her side. She lay still for a moment, then a mischievous look came across her face.
“I need go potty.” I knew it. Kids will use anything to control. To defy. I was choosing this battle and wouldn’t lose. She’s beautiful, but manipulation is not a beautiful quality when it’s all grown up. I kissed her cheek and looked her in the eye.
“No. Mommy already told you to go and you didn’t. You’re not getting back up.” She fussed again, insisted she has to go, begins to pitch a fit. I think to myself how I don’t want to change wet sheets.
But I’ll change her sheets in order to change her heart.
“No.”
Her eyes widen as she realizes it’s a lost cause. She can’t win because I won’t budge. And almost visibly, right before my eyes, I can see the cracks, then the crumble. I can see her break.
She’s broken. She sobs.
And almost in the same breath-sob she reaches both arms out, wraps them around my neck.
She clings hard, pulls me close, and cries,
“Mama, I wan’ keep you.”
She wants to keep me. These are the words she uses at night when she longs for me to linger. She squeezes me tight round the neck and holds on, says she wants to keep me. Won’t let me go.
I, of course, don’t pull away.
I draw her even closer into my arms.
She’s soft. Pliable. She rests, relaxed in my arms. I hold her, my arms all the way around her little body as she rests in her bed. Even though I’m crouched over, quads burning, I stay there, my head on the pillow next to hers, kissing her cheeks.
Within two minutes she’s sound asleep.
That’s me, I think. That’s me.
Why often do I stiffen, proud? Willing my feet and mouth to say yes to God but protesting no within my heart? Every time I choose myself, my own way, I push Him away, hold Him at arm’s length. He seeks to rock me gently, I stiffen and push Him away. He draws near to hold me. I talk to Him perhaps but my prayer is still just grasping for control. But then something jolts, cracks, crumbles.
This is how we break. This is why brokenness is a blessing.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Ps. 51:17)
Of course He won’t! Of course He never will. The same way that I hold my broken-spirit daughter, envelope her completely, engulfed in my love until she falls sweetly asleep. Until she rests in my love.
Why do we push Him away? Our pride, the God-repellent, it stiffens within us, incites us to rebellion, but we must make it bow. Must make our feet and mouths and hearts say “yes” to God.
Then, no matter how far away He feels, He will envelope us in His love and let us rest secure. And resting secure we discover the truth:
Brokenness is the only path to wholeness.
—
{Praying blessed brokenness–and wholeness–for you and me today. Can you let go and rest in His arms? He loves you so!! Thank you for reading.}
Advent: Let's share ideas.
Have you already made your holiday to-do list? Chances are you’re halfway through your Christmas-shopping, Thanksgiving-prepping, and Christmas-letter-writing. Or perhaps you’re going the simple route by buying 20 gift cards, a Marie Callender turkey dinner, and writing an email-note to your loved ones to let them know you’re still alive. That’s great. Whatever you’ve decided to do, do it for His glory and savor His grace.
But while I don’t like the fact that we tend to stuff everything into one month (visiting everyone we know, writing them all letters, buying them all gifts, and decorating our house perfectly), I do love the fact that Christmas urges me to do the things I really do want to do more of year-round. It’s almost like an annual accountability-check. Have I kept in touch with people I love? Have I written to them lately? Have I given a gift to my husband? Written a note to my neighbor?Perhaps we try to stuff too much in, but I must say I love what the “stuff” is and will continue to enjoy it in healthy measure.
To be fair, it is a season to celebrate. And let’s be honest: Celebration takes some effort. We could just lie around and rest all through December, but this is the birth of Christ! It’s worth a celebration!
So instead of just lamenting the busyness, let’s just be sure our activities are drawing us closer to Christ. Amen?
So this next week Advent begins, the preparation of our hearts for the birth of Christ. What will you do? How will you capture this season in a way that draws the heart of your family closer to the Savior? We’re still deciding what all we will and will not do this year, but might I suggest one fabulous resource?
Ann Voskamp’s Jesse Tree Devotional.
What I love about it: It’s daily, gospel-centered, inspirational, simple, creative.
And it’s done for me. I’m sold.
What will you do this Christmas to celebrate His birth with your family? I’d love to hear your ideas, so please take a moment to share what’s worked and blessed you in the past. We’ll look at another idea tomorrow, before we celebrate Thanks-giving on Thursday.
{Thanks for journeying with me, and thanks for reading.}
PS Be sure to stop in here this Friday for fabulous Black Friday deals! 🙂
When all you can see is what's not there…
The LORD will perfect that which concerns me: your mercy, O LORD, endures forever: forsake not the works of your own hands. (Ps. 138:8)
The mind-battle-lie I fight daily:
Why are we the only family that struggles with this?
The “this” changes with the weather. “This” can be eating-their-vegetables, picking-up-after-themselves, waiting-for-dinner-without-whining, going-to-Sunday-school-without-a-panic-attack. There’s no end to the variety of shortcomings we face each day and all too often that’s all that I can see.
All I see are all the things that aren’t there. The missing things. Like the lists we shared last week, the things I don’t do. The vacuum of what’s missing is visible.
Kind of like the “S” in Heidi’s words.
You see, my sweet Heidi-girl cannot do an s-blend to save her life. The “s” sound alone is fine, but blended with another consonant and the “s” never fails to fall.
The result is the cutest thing in all the world.
“Mommy, may I please have a ‘nack?” You better believe I’m fixin’ up something good. I love me a good ‘nack.
Then of course as she climbs up on her chair at the table: “Mommy, please ‘coot me in.” I ‘coot her in and nibble a few kisses near the edge of her mouth, inhale her apple-breath and say I’m going to eat her for a ‘nack! She turns hungrily to her bowl of applesauce and asks nicely for a ‘poon. I melt.
My favorite perhaps is reading the book about ‘piders. She thinks ‘piders are a little ‘cary, but still loves to read about them. Almost as much as she loves to count all eleven ‘tars in the ‘ky in her Dora book. Today on our nature walk she asks me to find her a ‘pecial ‘tick. And of course she also asks for help up the ‘tairs and asks to not have a ‘pank when she’s naughty.
Does it bother me one bit that the “s” fails to show? Not a bit. Do I worry and fret about her future, plagued by fear for her SAT scores? Not at all. I think her missing s‘s are adorable, age-appropriate, and endearing.
I’m not bothered at all by what’s not there.
Every illustration breaks down, but don’t you think our Heavenly Father feels the same? Yes, the Patterson children haven’t arrived. And to no one’s surprise the Patterson mother hasn’t either. We’re in progress. Not slacking, not celebrating mediocrity, but still learning our letters. I’m just so stinkin’ blessed by Heidi practicing her words, by Heidi continuing to grow …
By not letting her ‘lipped s’s ‘low her down.
I know when I teach I say things wrong. I write things wrong. I do things wrong. There are more things “undone” every day than done. But I think the missing letters are endearing to our God as long as we don’t let them get us down. You think? Of course it’s always pride that presses us into perfectionism. Humility isn’t surprised by dropped s’s … but also believes that God is great enough that in His timing He’ll perfect that which concerns us (Psalm 138:8).
God will bring back every dropped “s” in our lives. He will never forsake the work of His hands — that’s us. His mercy endures forever.
For all the things we inevitably drop, there’s grace.
{How does this bring rest to your soul today? Thanks, friends, for reading.}
How houses are built (and how they fall apart)
Sometimes all we need is one verse.
Ya’ll know by now that I love my Bible. I’ll blab ’til I”m blue in the face that we all need to be reading our Bibles. But lately I’ve been camping on the fact that we don’t need to know much to “get” this life of faith. In fact, at a recent conference we looked at this:
Our aptitude for God’s word matters less than our attitude toward God’s Word. The most important thing is how we approach His Word. If you know one verse of Scripture you can obey that verse and memorize that verse and ask yourself what does this verse tell me about God? And then hold up that verse and look through it every single day and let it clarify the world for you. Let your world come into focus based on what that verse tells you. Sometimes we got so many verses rattling around in our brains we’re not using any of them. Whatever it is that you’ve got hold it up and look at it. Do it. Obey it. Pray it. Think about it. And look through it.
So here’s what I’ve been looking through, still trying to “get” it:
A wise woman builds her house, but a foolish woman tears it down with her own hands. (Prov 14:1)
I love this word-picture. I remember, when I was 10-years-old, we built a house. My dad did the building, but we all contributed. I carried 2×4’s and swept up messes and my brother drove nails and my mom did whatever Dad asked. I can still picture my mom holding up plywood while Dad shot it full of nails. (I also remember, on a freezing cold morning, when he nail-gunned his hand to the plywood. That was a day.)
But my mom was always there holding something up.
Can you imagine if she’d been doing the opposite? If she’d been walking around the house tearing down fixtures or taking a sledgehammer to whatever work Dad had just finished. Or now, can you imagine if I walked around our house with a baseball bat smashing windows and knocking over furniture?
A wise woman builds her house.
It doesn’t say “A wise woman builds her business” Or “a wise woman builds her church” or “a wise woman builds her friendship-base” or “a wise woman builds her blog.” All those things are wonderful, but our first order of business, ladies, is building up our house.
There’s a reason God’s put this verse on my heart.
Because I need to be reminded.
Why is there such a constant temptation to build up everything except our homes? Perhaps because our homes are so mundane, so ordinary. The home is a humble kingdom, to be sure. It needs a queen who is small in her own eyes.
So if the woman’s not building, what is she doing?
Tearing down. How? With her own hands.
How sobering is this? Woman, we have so much power. The words we speak, the attitude we embody, the choices me make a thousands times a day. Everything we do is either building up or tearing down our house. With our own hands.
Am I creating order and beauty or chaos and confusion? Am I building up or tearing down?
A simple question to return to each day: Does this activity benefit my home and the people who live in it?
There are myriad reasons why houses fall apart. But this verse highlights the most important factor:
Our hands. We can blame society, peer pressure, culture and bad TV. But our hands are what build up or tear down our homes. Our words, our attitudes, the work we do each day. So the question for us:
What are my own hands doing today? Am I building up or tearing down?
{Friends, blogs, and businesses come and go. I want my house to stand. You too? Thanks for reading.}
PS In the middle of this post, Jeff and the kids said, “Mommy will you play with us?” You better believe I shut this laptop and we, all four, went outside for some serious playing! Dutch dressed the kids — it was Beaver football in our front yard! Here’s a peak:
When you're feeling empty …
I didn’t mean for it happen, the dates just all fell together. Four speaking engagements for me in just eight days. Sprinkled among these was the aftermath of our move, a funeral Jeff officiated (those things aren’t planned!), a baptism, a membership class, and a Sunday morning speaking engagement for Jeff. Truly, we don’t usually live like that, and now I’m reminded all over again why.
Something about milkshakes and straws.
It was all wonderful. And, especially the ministry done in the fold of our sweet WCC home. Those women give me life, I tell you. It is truly a joy to be with them.
But oh as I flew home from Bend I ached for all those arms, both little and big. Their two little faces, dirty, smiled wide as I climbed into the car. Heidi had on a pajama shirt and old sweatpants. Dutch asked me to never leave again. They love their daddy, that’s not it, it’s just that if we’re all really honest, everyone in the family thrives on Mama’s milkshake.
Everyone’s got a straw and they all want me.
And you know what? That’s perfect. I am the perfectly flavored milkshake for my family and I love that they all want a taste. I love that I can nourish their souls and care for their bodies. I love that God made me to feed these two little lambs and this one terrific man.
It only gets complicated when I start passing out straws to everyone else.
Good people. They deserve a straw, right? Maybe …
A friend recently read me this quote, from Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gifts from the Sea:
With our pitchers, we attempt sometimes to water a field, not a garden.
God has graciously given us a pitcher that is just the right size for all that He intends us to water. In truth, some of our pitchers are bigger or smaller than others. My friend with seven children has a bigger pitcher than me. Her milkshake is just much bigger than mine. But whatever the size of our pitcher, we just have to be careful we’re only watering our garden, not the field next door.
We were made a milkshake just the right size.
Who gets a straw?
We have to use discretion, don’t we? Must hand out those straws with caution that takes courage.
Whenever we say yes to someone we say no to someone else, true?
Looking back over our busy-season (which is over, by the way!), I don’t doubt that all our commitments were “of God.” I do believe He called us to each and gave us the strength for each one. But I also believe that part of His purpose was to remind me to be so careful about to whom I hand a straw.
Who is in your garden, the place you were meant to water?
And you, delicious milkshake that you are, who will get a straw today?
Might I suggest, to you and to myself, to hand them out with the caution that takes courage?
{Question for you: How do you remain disciplined and deliberate about who gets a straw in your life? Thanks for sharing your thoughts and wisdom, and as always, thanks for reading.}
For those pinch-me moments in life…
Today’s pinch-me moment: Sitting out on the back deck overlooking two acres of green, trees swaying in the gentle breeze. It is bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight, and close to 70 degrees. In a t-shirt, with a cold drink, doing my “work”: studying God’s Word.
All this and heaven too?
{Right after I wrote these words I got stung by a bee! No, nothing’s perfect here on earth. But this pinch-me life of joy and grace is worth a few bee stings along the way… What’s your most recent pinch-me moment of gratefulness? Would you share it with us? Thanks for reading.}
F is for Five things to fill your cup each morning
Fourteen precious souls sat in a circle — we, a small group of women, part of a large group of women, adventuring through the book of Galatians. We talked, shared our desire to remain faithful each day in spending time with God in His Word. But a common theme surfaced through almost every voice:
“I’m not a morning person.”
Have you ever said those words?
If you have it’s totally fair, the claim is legit. Research shows that our Circadian Locomotor Output Cycles Kaput (CLOCK) genes affect whether we prefer mornings or evenings. It does seem strange to me that everyone I meet claims they are not a morning person, but hey, no one knows you like you know you!
However, whether we like it or not, mornings happen, so we better figure out a way to make them work and make them work well.
Insert Tsh Oxendreider.
The girl is just so stinkin’ helpful, that’s what she is. If you’ve ever read her stuff, none of it is rocket science, it’s just that she presents her ideas in a fresh, creative, easy-to-implement way that makes you nod and say, “Yeah, I can do that!”
Her latest e-book, One Bite At A Time ($5) gives you 52 easy-to-do projects for simplifying your life. One of my favorites?
Establish your 5-part morning routine.
She explains:
A methodical morning routine is a great way to treat yourself to a little soul care. Instead of starting your day by responding to the stimulus around you, you’re proactively creating the day you want to have. When you wake up and do the most essential things first, you get a good start to your day. Your mind is better focused on the rest of your day’s tasks. And you’ll do a better job taking care of the people you love most. In short, you’re on top of things. Treat yourself to a little order and sanity before the chaos of life begins.
I like this. And while I already had an established routine for quiet time and Bible study, this helped me work a few other things in, such as exercise and showering . It also helped me work a few things OUT, such as checking my email. Listing out my five things helped me see that the way to get it all done in the morning was to be more disciplined about not letting the outside world into my world until I’d already nourished my body and soul. I look at it as the five things that fill my cup each morning. These are things that FILL, not drain. There will plenty of draining that happens all day, we need to start being FILLED!
Here are some ways you might choose to fill your cup: Take a shower, pray, read your Bible, drink a glass of water, journal, stretch, exercise, listen to a particular song, go for a walk, make your bed, take vitamins, sit outside with a cup of coffee. Pick five and fill on up!
There’s no perfect morning routine, and I don’t share my routine because it needs to be yours. If you really cannot think in the morning perhaps you do your Bible study later in the day but just take 5 minutes to get on your knees and thank Him for life? Or perhaps you listen to the Bible on audio while you’re still in bed? Do what fills your cup. This is my cup, and I’d love to hear about yours — perhaps we can inspire one another and live our days brim full. {Thanks for reading…}
—
The five ways I fill my cup each morning…
1. Get face-down and thank God for the gift of another day of life.
2. Make coffee or tea 🙂
3. Quiet time, Bible study, prayer
4. Exercise (a run or work-out video)
5. Shower
(In case you’re wondering, yes I must begin this early in order to be done by the time my little monkeys rise. But it’s worth it because when I see their faces I can smile wide and say, YES, I’m ready for you!)
Seven words you may need today.
I was wrong, will you forgive me?
The seven most important words for preserving the life of a relationship. I’ve said them countless times to my husband, a number of times to my friends, and a handful of precious times to my children.
Yesterday was one of those times.
Call it spiritual attack. Call it hormones. Call it 10 house-showings in 10 days. Call it Bible-study-starts-in-5-days-and-I’m-teaching. Call it trying-to-write-a-book-and-raise-preschoolers-at-the-same-time. Call it 5 stubborn pounds I can’t seem to shed. Whatever reasons there are, the flesh is the flesh and sin is sin and when my bright-eyed, bushy-tailed 4-year-old came down the stairs that morning his mama was in tears and that’s just how the day began.
Please tell me you’ve begun a day like that too?
The morning carried on and I’m pleased to say I kept the barking to a minimum. Heidi had apparently caught the same grouch-bug as me, so we were quite the couple. The only difference between her and I was that I’ve only slightly risen above throwing myself on the floor and pitching a fit (but I thought about it). So by the time we were late out the door and I was still packing snacks and brushing my teeth (at the same time) and Heidi was still in her jammies, I scurried them into the car and asked them both, in that lovely barking voice sadly reserved for those I love the most, “Will you please not talk right now?!”
I knew as soon as I said it that it was sin — anger. Words that force faces down, words that push away instead of invite. But what was really unfair was that Dutch had been a prince. He had helped Heidi in the car, gotten her books, picked up her fallen toy, tried to comfort her — and when I had huffed and barked, he had sat quietly.
His maturity shamed me.
The thought actually flashed through my mind, “He’s acting more godly than I am right now.” I thought back to a conversation we had had — because he’s always asking, “Who knows more, Daddy or Papa? Who knows more, you or Daddy? Do I know more than Heidi?” He’s very interested in who knows more, so I had explained to him that true knowledge isn’t in knowing facts or things but in knowing God, in being humble and wise and acting in obedience to God. We read Jeremiah 9:23-24,
23 This is what the LORD says:
“Let not the wise boast of their wisdom
or the strong boast of their strength
or the rich boast of their riches,
24 but let the one who boasts boast about this:
that they have the understanding to know me,
that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness,
justice and righteousness on earth,
for in these I delight,”
declares the LORD.
So as we continued down the road, my heart pricked with conviction, of course I turned and spoke those seven words to my children:
“Mommy was wrong. I’m sorry for being harsh and impatient and not speaking kindly to you. Will you forgive me?”
Dutch’s face lit up, his authentic smile spread from ear to ear. He beamed at me and said, “Yes, Mommy! I forgive you! I will always forgive you. I love you.”
And then, in a soft, quiet voice, spoken with respect and a shy smile he said, “For a while there it was like I knew a little bit more than you.”
How could I not smile at that?
I reached back and took his hand in mine. “Yes, baby boy. I’m so pleased with how you’re learning to trust God and obey Him. Sometimes you even teach mama how to do it too…”
Repentance restores relationships.
Forgiveness heals those hairline fractures we cause with our carelessness each day.
Perhaps write them down — these 7 words — and have them handy. You may need them today... 🙂 {Thanks for reading.}
F is for Failure, a healthy dose
“It’s not smart to stuff yourself with sweets,
nor is glory piled on glory good for you.”
Proverbs 25:27, The Message
“Can I talk to you about Dutch?”
Our children’s pastor pulled me aside and as she spoke my eyes spilled with tears — the joyous kind — as she related and confirmed what I’d already been witnessing in my dear boy. He’s doing so well! Her encouraging words, which I knew to be true, made this mama weep tears of joy. Mind you, he’s still a crazy-imagination-strong-willed-4-year-old and sometimes I still want to throw him out the window, but truly, my boy has changed so much in these past few months it makes my heart soar. The bottom line? Finally seeing the fruit of consistency and the grace of God. And yes I will take a moment’s liberty to share my little victories because I have certainly spent enough time sharing my little woes here in this space.
Just moments before I’d been talking to an elder and his wife about the exact same thing. They were rejoicing with me and, as I knew they were faithful pray-ers for us, I thanked them for their love and support. The husband laughed, “It’s so good for someone like you to have a boy like Dutch because if your kids were perfect you’d write a book about it!”
Ha! He’s right, I’m afraid. I’m sure if they were little compliant angels my head wouldn’t fit through the door and I’d be dishing out advice so fast ya’ll ‘d be sick to your stomachs.
The truth is, he’s right — it’s good for me. As I wrote a year ago, reflecting on Beth Moore’s teaching:
It is actually not good for us to succeed all the time. Nor is it good for our children to always succeed. Some failures are healthy. Some humiliation, excellent, because it humbles us, and humility always leads to more intimacy with God. If we only had success and glory all the time, we wouldn’t have the character God desires. Beth Moore shares a story of how God rebuked/humbled her once and how on the spot she stood there and praised Jesus for His graciousness to her, humbling her. I was so amazed by that. I HATE being humiliated. But what if we embraced it? What if we saw it as an awesome way to be drawn closer to the Father? How cool would that be?!
As Proverbs 25:27 says, just as stuffing ourselves with sweets isn’t good for us, nor is it good for us to have glory piled upon glory.
Of course some of us still like to stuff ourselves with sweets.
Perhaps that’s the problem. We also wouldn’t mind a life of endless glory.
But oh, isn’t it true? Isn’t it so good for us: The scars, the trips, the toilet paper stuck to our shoe?
I know that I have countless more embarrassing and humbling experiences ahead. (For the record, there are few things more humbling than attempting to write a book!) But praise be to God that we can look back and actually thank God for His grace, humbling us and giving us a healthy dose of failure.
He’s never mean; it’s always for our good.
If He takes us down a notch it’s just that much easier to bow low and worship.
{What humbling experiences are you thankful for today? How have they brought you low and enabled you to bow low in worship? From my knees, thanks, dear friend, for reading.}
What you don't want to miss
It’s early but feels late. (Is 6pm too soon to put kids to bed?)
Jeff is gone tonight and tomorrow night. I had a meeting last night. We’ve had four showings four days in a row. Today’s house showing gave me 15 minutes notice. I’m tired.
I finish the dishes of the big salmon dinner Jeff didn’t get to eat. Resist the urge to medicate with chocolate. “Ok, bath time, pick up your toys!” Kids scurry, pick up toys. Begin to head upstairs. I look around. These kids must be half blind. Call them back down to get the rest.
Dutch looks around, bewildered. “What other toys?”
Is it a boy thing?
We finish. Head up. An issue of delayed obedience (which is disobedience) demands attention. There are tears. They are tired too. Bodies are cleaned but washing hair is a war. Little bodies, slippery like fish, are wrapped in towels. I notice the smell. Glance over at the laundry basket. It towers, taunting me. Tomorrow, I tell myself.
They’re just getting settled when it hits — the ravenous bedtime hunger. “May I please have something to eat?” Which from Heidi’s mouth sounds like, “May I peese ‘ave froggy to eat?” For some reason “something” always sounds like “froggy.” I remember their non-existent appetite at dinner when salmon was served. Suddenly that appetite has returned with a vengeance. After banana, cheese, and a baggie of tomatoes, they ask for more but I draw the line. I kiss them both and turn toward the door.
Out the door, in the hall, I exhale the sigh of relief, but stop in the hall. My room, the bed, the computer, the escape, it calls. Beckons. Lures. Come, be DONE. DONE. DONE.
I haven’t prayed with them. I haven’t told them how much God loves them. I’ve cared for their bodies but neglected their souls. My flesh is so weak the truth is I just want to close my bedroom door and be done.
I turn around and enter in.
I kneel, curl up beside Dutch and lean in close to his puppy-breath, kiss his cheeks. I pray God’s goodness and favor and blessing and grace over his life, then tell him how much God loves him and I do too.
“Mommy, I love you so much.”
I almost missed this.
Head into Heidi’s room. She’s already heavy-eyed and sucking her thumb, curls spilled over her pillow. I pray. Tell her as well how much God loves her and I do too.
“Mommy I yuv you.”
How could I have considered missing this?
I slide under my covers. Write this. Read a precious email from another tired mom. Close the laptop lid and snuggle down into darkened silent bliss. Close my eyes, yes.
“Mommy!! May I please have more cheese?!”
—
{Happy mid-week, and thanks for reading.}