One afternoon last week, in the midst of the piles of laundry and the mess, I simply remembered.
I remembered that these are gifts I have been given. I remembered the eucharisto. The thanks.
The joy of my daughter learning how to ride her bike.
A little boy learning how to eat.
Green beans and graham crackers.
A game of peekaboo.
Milk and markers — a mess reminding me that life goes on here.
Superheroine costumes and tutus. Learning how to ride backwards.
Being okay in a white t-shirt and no makeup, just to capture a little spring sunlight. Remembering the sheer joy of the moment.
Writing down the gifts in my journal.
A thousand gifts.