My son slept in today.
I walked in and he was lying on his stomach, thumb pressed between his full, tender lips and body utterly still. Peace was etched across his face in graceful, deep slumber.
We were late dropping my daughter off at church. A full day of things to do, and yet- in His grace, the Lord stilled me.
And I really looked upon my precious son, resting in his crib.
Tears rose and trickled down my cheeks as I relived the miracle of his life- and as I bent to rouse him, he gazed at me through hazy, sleep filled eyes and promptly reached out his precious, pudgy hands to hold me.
His head came to rest on my shoulder, and even as everything in me urged me to action- I stayed still.
I held him and swayed. That special dance that Mothers seem born to do. A gentle, rhythmic rocking to a melody that we all know by heart.
And I prayed. I thanked God again for his gifts. And begged that he would help me not miss it, not take it for granted. The fleeting, flying minutes and how quickly they add up into days- weeks- months- years.
Sometimes I miss the miracle in the mundane, the routine.
I forget how these tiny, seemingly insignificant moments build on each other and create a story-their story- our story.
As we daily teach, love, and labor with those around us- holy and sacred work is being done.
God is glorified.
So as I grasp onto these fleeting moments of today, I pray for grace to love and fully live and enjoy- all over again.
Make it new today, God.
All blissfully new and wondrous- just as it should be.
And indeed it is- as I hold my precious son and still the rushing pace.
In thankful stillness- I see His Grace.