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Imagination, Creativity and Flying like a Bird

September 20, 2011 by

What do you think it’s like to be a bird?

I think it must be thrilling.

Just once I’d like to feel the rush of flying, of spreading the wings and gliding on the wisp of the wind.  If I were to be a bird, though, I can’t decide where I’d like to rest my feathers.  Would I be a mountain bird, coasting from mountain top to mountain top, the valleys and peaks soaring below in harmonious rhythm?  If I were to be a mountain bird, I’d like to be one in Austria for I don’t think you will find more beautiful formations in all the world.

 

Hallstatt, Austria where one year ago today we stood atop this mountain and I longed for the freedom of flight.

But, I fear the frigid winter air would be too much for me…even as a mountain bird.  So perhaps I would be better suited as an island bird.  What must it be to glide above the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean, the warm, salty air whipping over me as I coast left to right.  If I were to be an island bird, I’d like to reside over Spanish Wells, Bahamas.  Because I think that God shines His Grace upon that island in extra measures.

These are things I think about.

There are some days…many days…when I wish I could unplug from it all.  I dream of a secret garden where I could escape and get lost in the dreams of my mind.  I would wander the twisted flowers and gnarled tree trunks with only the soft padding of my feet in the grass as company.  I would lose myself in the romance of the soft setting, dreaming up far off lands where anything is possible.  My imagination would no longer be dictated and diluted but would be free to run, to fly.

I would be the bird, the free spirit who never grows up, the romantic who throws her arms around her sweaty man with abandon.

These are things I think about.

This week, the kids and I are telling stories – making them up.  We are digging into the recesses of our minds where imagination waits to be stirred.  Robots come to life and trees dance in the breeze.  The grass is purple and streams are made of chocolate.  Grand adventures lie around every corner and over every bridge.  Sometimes, when the oldest is telling his story, Bigfoot makes an appearance.  And tornados.  It’s very exciting.

When the girl tells her stories, they almost always involve a talking unicorn.  It is magical.

When the youngest tells his stories they almost always include the words “booty” and “toot.”  It’s hysterical.

Imagination is the best way to see one of the greatest traits of God Himself – creativity. For inside the mind’s eye, the creativity of the Creator indwells each one of us with the ability to see a little beyond that which is before us.  Mathematicians see formulas that take us to the moon.  Scientists see developments that allow us to see life from a different spectrum.  Poets allow us to hear nature through the fluidity of their pens.  Musicians discover harmonies that speak to our souls and take us beyond the present.

Imagination is where the Creator left His greatest imprint on us…His Image Bearers.

It is inside the recesses of our minds that God gave us a grand bit of Himself.  After all, He had the greatest imagination of them all.  And when we open kids up to this process of creativity, we let them truly come alive.  The challenge is to quiet the Earth around us.  And what a challenge it is.

Would that I could lose myself inside imagination every day where life is not confined to only that which I know but is instead wide open, limitless in reach.  Technology has dulled my imagination, and even that of my children.  But it’s always there, imagination, waiting to be tapped and used.  Imagination leads us into some place new and unknown.

Where I can fly.


These are things I think about.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood, Random, writing Tagged With: , , , , ,

Like welcoming an old friend

September 18, 2011 by

I got my good camera back from the shop the other day.

It was like welcoming an old friend back home again.

I immediately pulled it out of the box and ushered the kids outside for an impromptu photo shoot.  They were thrilled…can’t you tell?

I’ve been in a funk these last few days.  Sad.  Discouraged.  Frustrated at everything and nothing.  Unsettled and just altogether irritable.  This phase of life we’re in has left me vulnerable.  Doubts start creeping in like the waters of the beach.  They slide up and over my heart and then quickly retreat leaving me unsure of myself.

I doubt my ability to parent well.

I doubt my ability to pen anything worth reading.

I doubt my ability to love well.

I doubt my ability to exhibit grace.

So much doubt.

I know these are lies.  I really do.  I can see it and feel it and call it out by name.  The frequency with which I’m having to identify and put behind me the lies, however, has begun to wear me down.

And I started to believe the doubts.

Do you know what happens when you start to believe the doubts?  You compare.  I’ve compared myself to everyone these past couple of weeks.

No good can come of that.  I know this and I’m constantly fighting against it.  Sometimes I just get battle weary.

So when I got my camera and took the time to slow down and observe life happening through the lens, I found myself suddenly encouraged.

I am not a great photographer.  I know this very well.

But there is something about snapping a picture that fully encapsulates a brief moment in time.

It’s Grace.  Grace.  Remember how I told I’m learning about Grace?  It’s a daily walk.

A sunset.  A giggle.  My toes buried in the cool sand.

A house awaits us.  This week we will finally begin to set our stake in the sand.  After two and a half months of transition, we will begin to start anew.  Forward motion.

Our beach side transition is coming to a close.  It has been a true blessing to be able to stay here.  It hasn’t been easy…on anybody.  My parents have given up their space and their peace and their privacy for two and a half months as well.

They’ve never complained.  Never made us feel unwelcome or unwanted.

Grace.

Thank you to all of you for supporting us and loving us.

For loving me.

Thank you for the emails and the phone calls.  I’ve had communication from perfect strangers, from friends I haven’t spoken with in many years, from friends so dear to my heart that I sometimes physically ache for their presence.

Your love and support have carried us through the moments of funk – the moments of doubt when we questioned every decision, and every ability.

Grace.

Thank you all, my friends both online and off, for showing that to me unfailingly.  I am deeply, deeply grateful.

One more...just for fun. Dang, he's cute.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Florida, Life, Moving

Me them then…or is it them me now?

September 15, 2011 by

I engaged in a bit of retail therapy yesterday.  After a day on the battleground called motherhood, I escaped for a few hours into the Mecca of all home furnishing stores.  Did you know the power that four simple little letters can wield?

IKEA.

Say it slow.  Let it roll off the tongue.

I-K-E-A.

I rolled a cart through the golden aisles, little fairies giggling and blowing pixie dust on me as I danced past.  When I entered the showroom, a beam of light appeared from nowhere casting an ethereal glow across the cheap, yet terribly stylish, furnishings.

I actually think walking through there made a few of my wrinkles disappear.

I found something I loved in every room.  I bought Christmas presents for Tia and resisted the urge to grab the arm of the woman in yellow beside me and shake it in excited glee.  Oh the organizational wonderment to behold!

I ate Swedish meatballs in the silence of my reverie, all while visually digesting the wonderment that stood before me.  It was like being at the spa, only no strangers were touching me and it didn’t require the sacrifice of my first born to afford it.

I left with a few treasures in my basket and a considerable amount of satisfaction at how much I got for the amount.  I piled my treasures in the back of my (smokin’ hot) minivan and off we drive toward the glowing orange orb in the sky.

It was as beautiful an evening as one 30-something could possibly experience.

As I made my way down the road, I slowed to a stop at a red light (always a good idea).  I glanced in my side mirror to see a truck in the lane to my left stopping next to the car that was directly behind me.  Inside the rusted truck were two girls who didn’t look old enough to be wearing makeup, much less operating a vehicle.  They motioned wildly at the older gentleman in the car next to them so he rolled down his window.

“Hey there, Grandpa,” the girl in the passenger seat yelled, smacking her gum with the force of a perturbed cow.  “You’re pretty cute.”  Head thrown back.  *giggle, giggle, giggle*

The poor old man shook his head and rolled his window back up.  The girls drove forward and pulled up alongside me.  I had my window down and the radio blasted all the current Christian hits of today. I bobbed my head up and down to the beat and drummed my fingers on the side of the car.  I rarely drive with the windows down these days, but last night was so perfect I couldn’t resist.

Giggle tweeny bopper looked my way and I tried to ignore.

“Hey,” she called, still giggling uncontrollably.  It was the silly giggle that reveals complete and total immaturity.  I turned her way and smiled.

“Hey,” I said back with a grin.  “How are you guys doing tonight?”

The driver laughed.  I briefly contemplated asking her to give me proof that she was indeed old enough to drive.  “We are, like, so. great.”  She said.  Her words were emphasized with two smacks of her Hubba Bubba.  Whoa…they were doing great.

“So what are you up to?” Giggly asked. And just then the light turned green and the line of cars began to slowly move.  I waved as the Silly Mobile pulled forward with a squeal – was it the tires or the girls?

And then I laughed. It was the knowing laugh that completely solidifies you as a full blown grown up.

The total lack of respect for others aside, those girls reminded me a little bit of myself.  I remembered the day that my best friend Lindsey and I, also both barely legal to drive, made the trek from our house to a friend’s out in the sticks of St. Louis.  We had the windows down and our music blaring and we hung our heads and arms out the windows laughing uncontrollably and altogether reveling in our youth.

Life was a joyride.  It was a wind in your hair, laugh at the world adventure.  We were silly and crazy and completely free of the responsibility of adulthood.  There weren’t children or husbands or mortgages or bills.

I can honestly say that at that moment in my life, the very last thing I wanted to spend my hard earned money on was a kitchen scrub brush and a watering can.

Home furnishings weren’t exciting.  Freedom was exciting.  The wind whipping by as we headed to the Lake was exciting.  Life was a grand adventure just at the tip of our fingers.  And as those girls peeled out, shrieking with laughter at…um, nothing…I shook my head.  They are me back then.

And as I glanced at the IKEA bag glimmering in the evening sun next to me, I let out another laugh.  I am them now…or not long from now.  The wind still whips through my hair and my music is still loud.  Only, more often than not, the music is sung by talking vegetables and my minivan is loaded with practical things like kitchen scrub brushes and watering cans…and place mats.  Really, really cute place mats.

Life is still an adventure, isn’t it?  I think it might even be a little more grand.

Someday those silly little girls will understand.

Filed Under: Florida, funny stuff that happens, Life, Minivans, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: , , ,

For Bebe

September 14, 2011 by

Today is my wonderful Mother-in-Law’s birthday.  This is the part where I reveal yet another flaw…I stink at putting cards in the mail.  Seriously stink at it.  I always forget, often times even buying, signing and addressing the card then forgetting to actually mail it.  It is a design flaw in my character, I’m sure.

How’s that for deferring blame, huh?

What I lack in planning and forward thinking, though, I try to make up for in creativity…and a well timed phone call.  The kids are speaking with their Bebe right now.  I told them to sing to her…that’s better than a card, right?  I also combined our handwriting and grammar lesson today with a little birthday surprise for Bebe.  So, without further ado, I give you Sloan’s journal entry:

“I Love my Bebe because, she is very beuteful.”  She lives in areKensaew, and she has 6 grandchildren.  Cade is the oldest one.  Cade has two brothers, Eli and Sam.  I like when Bebe does creepee crolee.  Bebe is a wonderful grama.  When I see Bebe I am happy, so I run up to her.

His instructions were to write 7-8 sentences, with at least one of them a compound sentence.  He started learning dialogue yesterday and I adore his random use of quotations.  It just makes me smile.

Tia and Landon were interviewed separately on what they love about Bebe.  Landon’s answers are so random I had to scratch my head.  But I wrote exactly what he said.

I love it when Bebe:

Tia: “Goes somewhere with me.”

Landon: “Goes to da store and buys tennis shoes for me.”

I like to go:

Tia: “To the store and buy new shoes and clothes with Bebe.”

Landon: “To California with Bebe.” No – they have never been to California together…

Bebe makes me laugh when she:

Tia: “Talks funny wif her accent.”

Landon: “When she plays Crazy 8’s.”

My favorite time with Bebe is:

Tia: “Going out somewhere and going on a date together.”

Landon: “When we can go to Chuck E Cheese.”

When I see Bebe I like to:

Tia: “Run up to her and kiss her.”

Landon: “Go eat cotton candy.”

I think Bebe is:

Tia: “A great Grandma.  And beautiful.”

Landon: “Pwetty and nice.”

I wish I could:

Tia: “Do stuff with Bebe.”

Landon: “Go on da boat wif Bebe.”

Bebe always likes:

Tia: “To make dinner for us and I like that.”

Landon: “Go to da store.” Both of these answers made me laugh out loud.  Bebe knows why…

I always think of Bebe when I see:

Tia: “Her.  Whenever she goes somewhere I ask to go with her.”

Landon: “A ghost.” HA!

 

Happy Birthday, Bebe.  We love you and are always blessed by you.

Filed Under: Family Tagged With: , ,

The Tapestry of Now

September 12, 2011 by

Life’s adventure rarely leaves time for long enough pause to question.  How did I come to this and what brought me here?  It’s only upon stepping back from the tapestry and observing that we’re able to truly see the Artist’s flair.

What looked to be a tangled web of yellow thread was really a sunbeam.

The woven blue lines folding in and out grew into a vast ocean when stepping back.

Did you know that sometimes you can step back and look at even the most recent past and see beauty?  Did you know that if you take just a minute to breathe, you might be amazed at what’s developing right before your eyes?  Did you know that sometimes the present feels tangled and knotted but upon closer examination, it’s really shaping up to be something…grand?

I’m there.  Right now.

I didn’t want to “provide my children with a home education program” as the State of Florida asked me to word it in my letter to the Superintendent.  But somehow I knew I was supposed to.  And it scared me.  It still scares me.

But here we are.  Two weeks in and dare I say we’re having fun?  And if I step back for a few minutes and let the weight of this responsibility slide off my shoulders, I am able to see something beautiful being pieced together.

 

The root word + the suffix =

My kids and I are enjoying one another.  Naturally there are moments of frustration.  There are certain children who are to remain unnamed who, apparently, are so easily distracted that the simplest of tasks can turn into the most painful.  There are whiny moments and at least once a day I have to stop myself from tossing my hands in the air in exasperation.

But, more than anything else – we’re laughing together.

 

Russian lessons

We’re living life together and learning as a whole.  Similes, compound sentences, geography…who knew learning could be such fun?  They can label every state on the map and, as an added bonus, so can I.  Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, eh?

 

Tia loves to do "hard math."

And suddenly, without even knowing really when or how it happened, I became that mom.  The mom who schools her children in the home…and likes it.  I still don’t know if this is a permanent situation for us.  I honestly don’t know.  But for right now, I’m enjoying this bumpy little ride.

 

Taking a compound sentence from Sloan’s journal and pointing out the conjunction. He was also required to use one simile. My poor kids…stuck with a mom who finds a freakish amount of glee in similes and compound sentences.  You should feel sorry for them.

As I look back at the tapestry being woven these past few weeks, I’m in awe of the beauty and the masterful way it’s all slowly coming together.

Even if there are a few stray threads still needing to be plucked…

I wrote out a few conjunctions and turned around to talk with Tia for a minute. When I heard snickering I turned back around to find Sloan had edited my writing slightly.  Silly little boys make the tapestry a little more fun and…colorful, wouldn’t you say?

*sigh*

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Homeschool, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Russian, School, Sloan Tagged With: , , , , , ,

I remember

September 10, 2011 by

I will never, ever forget.

I remember every sight, every smell.  I remember the tears shed and the words spoken.  I remember the feel of the carpet as I fell to my knees and the heat of my tears as they fell to the floor.

I remember the thud of my heart as I watched my countrymen launch themselves from the windows and fall to their deaths.  I remember calling out to God, wondering what His creation must have felt and thought as they pushed away from the burning building.

I remember fear.

I remember each moment of that morning as if it were a slow motion reel in my head.

The replayed images leave me equal parts horrified and honored.

Horrified to think it all really happened.  Honored to be an American.

I remember.

I will never, ever forget.

Image credit

Filed Under: Life, Random Tagged With: ,

A Party for all Eternity

September 7, 2011 by

We laid the Bible on the table and she sat silent for a moment, the weight of God’s Word sinking deep.

“God thinks I’m important?” she asked.

We just finished reading from Genesis when Abraham, obeying God’s command, took Isaac to the mountain and lay him on an altar.  He raised the knife high, willing to sacrifice his son yet heartbroken to do it.

“Abraham, Stop!”

A lamb.

A thicket and an altar of thanksgiving.

A promise kept.

To me, it was just another story.  But the message she got?

The words whispered to her soul?

God thought Isaac important.  So important, he was to be spared.

God thinks her important.

So important, she was to be spared.

A Sacrificial Lamb sent to take her place.

“I think I’m ready,” she said, very matter of fact.  No doubt, the voice did not waver.

And later that day, nestled on the bed between us…she answered the knock.

Confident.

Joyful.

Beautiful.

She understood.  The acceptance holds weight.

Truth.

The dirt…

Made clean.

Daughter.

A Princess.

And when the prayers were finished, she smiled wide.

“Heaven’s having a party for me now, right?” she asked with a grin.

And they are.  I imagine it to be a grand feast with birthday cake, Nutella (naturally) and M&M’s – all her favorites.

We had our own party.

At a restaurant on the beach we celebrated over chicken fingers and shrimp.

An altar of thanksgiving.

As we wrapped up and the low lying clouds began to shine with the rays of the sun breaking through their surface, she turned to me.  All eyes.  Big and bright.

Crystal Blue.

Redemption.

“Mom, is my heaven party over now?” she asked.

“No, baby.  They’ll be celebrating you for all eternity.”

“Yet to those who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.” John 1:12

 

*A profession of faith in Christ is really important to us and knowing our children have come to that point brings us to our knees.  If you are unsure as to why that’s important to us or you have any questions about why we believe what we believe, please feel free to email me.  I would love to chat with you.  kellistuart00 (at) hotmail (dot) com.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Florida, Kids, Motherhood, Tia Tagged With: , ,

Proof that they’re mine

September 7, 2011 by

My kids all favor their dad quite a bit.  Particularly Sloan and Tia.  I always have to laugh, though, when people look at them and say things like, “They look just like their Daddy.  But I also see a little bit of your brother in them.”

Huh…that’s funny.  Because my brother was in no way involved in the creation of these kids.  So, without further ado (and because I don’t have much creativity flowing through me today), I give you proof that my kids also look a tiny bit like their Mama.

Aaaahhh...the classic studio shot of the '80's. It was probably taken at Olan Mills.

Four years old.

5-ish years old

2nd Grade. You're jealous of my shirt...

And just because I know you want to see it:

Oversize Esprit Bag? Check. Units belt?  Check.  High tops? Check.  Side ponytail crimped? Check.

Ladies and gentlemen, I owned 1988.  Owned. It.

So what do you think?  Can I claim the kids as my own?

Happy Wednesday.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Kids, Motherhood, Random Tagged With: , , ,

Utah, A Bomb and a Slithering Sea Snake

September 5, 2011 by

The first week of school is tucked firmly beneath my belt.  This is fancy talk for, I survived. So did the kids, by the way.  Landon barely.  Apparently I neglected to mention to him when we began that school occurs every. single. day.  So on day two, as he toddled into the kitchen, his morning Cup ‘a Joe nestled firmly between his teeth (read: sippy cup of juice), he asked me the same thing he asks me every morning.

“Mommy?  What we gonna do today?”

“We have school again today.”

Shock.

Horror.

Face crumbles, juice falls to the floor and a great deal of weeping doth commence.  “But we alweady did school yestewday!”

Um…yeah.  Apparently school every day isn’t his favorite.  By day five he started to come around, though he never met the news that school was about to begin with much glee.  You can’t please everyone, right?

Not that school was a wash for him.  We worked on learning the States last week.  We labeled them on a map and each day learned to identify a few more.  By the end of the week, Sloan was able to point to and label 30 States.  Tia could label about 15 and then needed a few prompts for the rest.  Landon can point to about 6 when asked where they are.  But all on his own, he can label one State.

Utah.

For some reason Utah. Not Florida.  Not Missouri.  Utah.

Why?

There is no way for me to answer that question.  I don’t know why.  All I know is my three year old can point to Utah when shown a blank map.  I am so proud.

 

We are one with the fish

 

As a reward for a great first week of school, we finished lessons early on Friday and headed to the The Florida Aquarium in Tampa.  We got up close and personal with the sting rays, we growled at the sharks and we made silly faces at the alligators.  And we topped it all off with some good old fashioned water play.

 

Grrrr....

As an impromptu history lesson, we walked next door to the American Victory Ship, one of only four operational World War II ships in the country.  It was the end of the day and they were preparing to close, but they let us have the run of the ship before shutting everything down.  We rang the bells, visited the captain’s quarters and fought mighty battles against the enemy warships and alien droids.

We won each battle with nary an injury.  It was truly a victorious ship.

Just before leaving, one of the sailors aboard the ship took us into the Engine Room and gave us a quick history lesson.  The ship was built 70 years ago (not 60 hundred as Landon guessed…by hey – he can identify Utah, right?).  And the massive vessel was built in only 55 days.  Not 25 years as Sloan guessed.  But hey…he can point to 30 States on a map, right?

“Can you take us out on a ride in this ship?” Sloan asked the Sailor-man.  I just wish my child wasn’t so shy, ya know?

“Well, no.  Not right now.  We’re dry docked right now.  There are a lot of things that need to be done to get a ship out to sea.”

“Oh,” Sloan said, not masking his disappointment at all.  This week’s homeschooling theme is “Tact and How To Use It.”

Seeing his crestfallen face, Sailor-man smiled.  “You know,” he said.  “Every once in awhile we do take this beautiful ship out for a spin on the water.  You have your mom find out when we’re going to do that again and make sure you all come out to take a ride with us, okay?”

Sloan grinned and clasped his hands together at his chest.  “Okay!” he cried, his eyes dancing.  “When we go out, can you shoot off a bomb? Please?” He did use lovely manners making his Mama brim with pride.

“Well,” Sailor-man said, his own eyes twinkling, “Now I’m afraid that’s frowned upon…”

Pause.  Silence.

“What do you mean?” Sloan asked.

And we all laughed.  Me with the “Oh I’m so embarrassed I will explain this to him later” Mom laugh, and Sailor-man with the “I used to be a little boy and I had a few little boys of my own so I totally understand what’s going on inside his head” laugh.  And off we went.

Sunday night brought beautiful, perfect Florida weather.  There was an ocean breeze perfect for fishing and we traipsed down to the dock at sunset where Sloan immediately snagged a beautiful, large blue crab.  After a bit of dancing and a whole lot of finagling, we got him in the bucket and gave him a pinfish to play with.  Lee pulled in a good sized catfish that we all ooed and aahed over until it came time to take him off the hook, then we all scattered and let Lee handle the honors alone.

We’re a brave bunch.

The night ended early, however, when Sloan’s line bent over and he struggled and fought and pulled up a…friggin’ snake. When we figured out that’s what was on his line, Tia sprouted wings and flew 50 feet in less than a second.  I danced and yelped while Lee held his arms straight out and yelled “STOP!  Do not pull that thing in.”  He grabbed the pole and shook it until the long (too long) sea monster finally fell off.  And with our hearts hammering in our throats, we packed it in and marched inside, cooking our crab for a little late night snack.

How was your holiday weekend?

 

Our bedtime snack, courtesy of Sloan.

Filed Under: Family, Florida, funny stuff that happens, Homeschool, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: , , , , ,

The eyes to see

September 5, 2011 by

Like a petal dancing on the wind, the theme of Grace has been floating across the internet this past year.  Everywhere you look, people are seeing it, feeling it and living it.

Grace.

Grace is not a movement.  Grace has simply always been.  Grace hasn’t changed or altered or moved. Grace has been dancing for us for all of eternity – we just haven’t always seen it.  But it isn’t fair for me to speak of you, for perhaps you have seen it.  Perhaps only I have missed it.

Grace.

In the past two months, our life has changed drastically.  The known has been replaced with the unknown and the comforts of predictability have been stripped away.  Filled with fear and doubt, we’ve moved forward with faltering steps, our eyes truly open for the first time.

Grace.

It’s always been there, just waiting for me to see it.  A sunrise over the dark waters, bursting forth the light of day.  Grace. A palm tree swaying and bending in the stormy winds, a sign of water coming to renew the ground.  Grace. A bird singing, a lizard racing and the pealed laughter of children with eyes wide to Grace.  All these things were here.

And I can finally see.

Ann’s book opened my eyes.  Her blog moves my heart.  And I looked, not only in nature, but at man – God’s most glorious creation.  Grace.

I sat on the plane last week, my head and my ears tight.  The cabin pressure left me with a headache and I could never quite get my ears cleared.  As we descended, the man across the aisle leaned over.  “Would you like a piece of gum?” he asked, a kind and understanding smile on his face.  I accepted gratefully.

Grace.

Standing up to deplane, I watched the man in front of me help an elderly woman with her bag.  He pulled it down and as she reached for it, he shook his head.  “I’ll get it off the plane for you, ma’am,” he said.

Grace.

Life is full of Grace…when you’re watching for it.  And in the looking, another miracle takes place.  Life slows down. As a mother, this is the greatest miracle of all.  Because the passing of time takes with it the sweetness of youth.  Newborn cries turn into toddler giggles turn into the lengthening of limbs and deepening sounds of a growing man’s voice.  And it all happens in a blink.

But when you’re looking for Grace, the moments last a little longer.  The sticky arms flung around your neck hold on tighter.  The giggles ring a little louder.  The wet kisses are a little sweeter.  Life is grander.

Grace.

How are you seeing Grace these days?

Filed Under: books, faith, Family, Florida, Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: , , , ,
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