FINALLY, the wee ones and the Man of the House are tucked snugly in bed, all snoring in unison. The young men (William the Conqueror and his noble sidekick Derek) are, of course, wielding swords and such on the battle field of the planet WOW. So I have few moments to listen to the silence. . .
I know I complain about the snow, and I do hate long, cold winters! Well, really I don't like ANYTHING colder than 50 degrees F for more than 15 minutes at a stretch . . . But there is something exquisite about a golden pink dawn spreading across the sky, mirrored in the snow below. Even the clouds look like giant snow banks piled by some heavenly snowshovel busily clearing a path for the sun god in his chariot.
We're so close to the mouth of the canyon that the mountain peaks jut up from the flatland breathtakingly close- grey and sharp and ancient, bearded in white. I can look out across the tree-studded, snow-encrusted wonderland behind our home and count the deer bedding down under the evergreens. They like to shelter under those branches piled thick with snow. The other morning the kids and I watched them watching us- mildly curious, stretching after a long night- until Max ran barking into the yard for his morning ritual. Then they bounced gracefully away over the snow. "Look Mom, they're prancing." Gentry said.
I've got to remember to make time for those small, precious moments. I've got a desk piled high with bills and paperwork and a "to do" list with items that are 17 weeks overdue (thanks Outlook! I really needed to be reminded that I'm that far behind . . .) and the laundry, well laundry is like a virus, just leave it alone for awhile in a warm dark place and it multiplies like crazy. I swear it doubles every 3-4 hours if left unchecked. But simple, joyful moments are hard won and often neglected in the crush of duty. I'm afraid that if I don't herald them they will simply slip by unnoticed and all that will be left to remember at the close of day is a long string of tasks I've done (or hoped to do) and get to repeat tomorrow.
So I think I'll take a moment a recall the joys that came my way this day:
1- The soft as featherdown brush of my daughter's hair on my cheek when she put her plump little arms tight around my neck and gave me a big juicy monkey kiss.
2- My amazement at hearing my six year old sing every line of the ballad "The Wabash Cannonball" in his clear sweet young boy voice.
3- The love that filled my heart when I looked at my husband down the aisle at Costco and was reminded that he's one heck of a good man and pretty darn sexy too!
4- How much I enjoyed hearing Will and Derek laughing together as they did the dishes. I love having big kids in the house. They add such an element of depth and interest to all the goings on.
5- Max waiting eagerly for someone, anyone to play with, so ready and willing to love and be loved- reminding me of how simple it is to reach out to others with friendly enthusiasm.
I know I complain about the snow, and I do hate long, cold winters! Well, really I don't like ANYTHING colder than 50 degrees F for more than 15 minutes at a stretch . . . But there is something exquisite about a golden pink dawn spreading across the sky, mirrored in the snow below. Even the clouds look like giant snow banks piled by some heavenly snowshovel busily clearing a path for the sun god in his chariot.
We're so close to the mouth of the canyon that the mountain peaks jut up from the flatland breathtakingly close- grey and sharp and ancient, bearded in white. I can look out across the tree-studded, snow-encrusted wonderland behind our home and count the deer bedding down under the evergreens. They like to shelter under those branches piled thick with snow. The other morning the kids and I watched them watching us- mildly curious, stretching after a long night- until Max ran barking into the yard for his morning ritual. Then they bounced gracefully away over the snow. "Look Mom, they're prancing." Gentry said.
I've got to remember to make time for those small, precious moments. I've got a desk piled high with bills and paperwork and a "to do" list with items that are 17 weeks overdue (thanks Outlook! I really needed to be reminded that I'm that far behind . . .) and the laundry, well laundry is like a virus, just leave it alone for awhile in a warm dark place and it multiplies like crazy. I swear it doubles every 3-4 hours if left unchecked. But simple, joyful moments are hard won and often neglected in the crush of duty. I'm afraid that if I don't herald them they will simply slip by unnoticed and all that will be left to remember at the close of day is a long string of tasks I've done (or hoped to do) and get to repeat tomorrow.
So I think I'll take a moment a recall the joys that came my way this day:
1- The soft as featherdown brush of my daughter's hair on my cheek when she put her plump little arms tight around my neck and gave me a big juicy monkey kiss.
2- My amazement at hearing my six year old sing every line of the ballad "The Wabash Cannonball" in his clear sweet young boy voice.
3- The love that filled my heart when I looked at my husband down the aisle at Costco and was reminded that he's one heck of a good man and pretty darn sexy too!
4- How much I enjoyed hearing Will and Derek laughing together as they did the dishes. I love having big kids in the house. They add such an element of depth and interest to all the goings on.
5- Max waiting eagerly for someone, anyone to play with, so ready and willing to love and be loved- reminding me of how simple it is to reach out to others with friendly enthusiasm.
