entry eighteen

and how is so much wrong so fast? and why do the scales of life tip heavy to anger and irritability? a constant, rip right through your gut and straight out your throat – hot anger.

and why doesn’t time freeze?

dressing the baby in an outfit he’ll wear for the last time today. and it has come.

here.

now.

and it’s too fast.

the last time this clothing will be worn by a child from my womb- and have I missed most of it? has my energy been spent doing dishes and mopping floors – and thoughts consumed by these trivial mundanes when they are not actually being accomplished in the moment of the here and now?

when I have nothing to do but give in to sleep and still the list of the daily chores goes and rushes my mind- so I can be sure as to not forget a single one when it’s, you know, tomorrow?

and do I find my children’s laughter as important? to read their favorite lines for the thousandth time that day?

and what is true importance?

am I raising up children with an eternal outlook on life- the kind of young people who know what it means to live all out full tilt for the Kingdom- or am I teaching them to find their worth in the clean of the day?

and there’s a need for smiling more. for finding more of the joy. for putting away as you go and if something is missed allowing it to be found at a time.. one that is not now.

for laughing more.

for more pages and less screens.

for soft words and silly songs.

for just an actual enjoyment of the day that is given right gift. the now.

for writing the Scriptures on their hearts and for guiding them a little closer to their Heavenly Father. for teaching by action and not by diction. for allowing room for messes and ugly and for it to be okay when they just can’t control every emotion that bombards their tiny beings.

for grace.

for thanks.

for joy.

yeah, more time for joy.

for less putting off until tomorrow.

because the outfits of today may not fit tomorrow. and the growing doesn’t stop. and time is a never ceasing torrent of minutes. and days will never come twice.

little man coos

Liam’s crooked “got a secret” pure joy smile

a boy-child’s intuition

a girl-child-not-quite-two’s ability to make every expression heart stopping and hilarious

a husband home from work on days when the body isn’t strong enough

wedding invitations that cover photo wires

lit by glowstick toddler faces all awe and giddy

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