Although my kids are older and
in school all day, the following sentiment is exactly the same as when I wrote
it back in 2009.
It’s not anything I can put my
finger on. It’s just all the tiny,
easy-to-take-for-granted moments and comforts spread throughout my days It’s rolling over before I even wake up to
cuddle with my husband. It’s having the
energy and health to be able to get up without hurting. It’s being alone with my still-warm-from-bed
four year old, snuggling on the couch before anyone else knows we’re even
awake. It’s having hot water to shower
in every morning of my life and even being able to take another if at night if
it’s a hot, sweaty day. It’s having
breakfast as a family. It’s knowing that
we have cereal and milk to eat and that if we do run out we have the means to
buy more. It’s our family prayer as we
separate for the day, petitioning our Heavenly Father to keep us safe until we
return home. It’s the opportunity our
kids have to gain an education close to home, knowing they’re fairly safe and
in good hands and so lucky that they don’t have to go to work in a factory or
on a fishing boat.
It’s being a stay-at-home mom
and having the whole day to do laundry, make bread, work in the garden, write
letters, listen to pretty music, and provide a foundation for my family. It’s having several hours alone with my
preschooler to play the matching game and to cook together. It’s watching our dogs cuddled up together on
the rug in front of the fireplace when it’s snowing outside. It’s having a thermostat to make us
comfortable regardless of the weather outside.
It’s running water, especially hot water, just for lifting a
light-weight handle instead of carrying buckets for two miles. It’s the appliances all around us that make a
chore that used to take a day now require a mere push of a button or two.
It’s knowing that my quiet time
is simply a respite. I know there are so
many who live alone who would gladly accept the dull roar of my
house. So although I appreciate the
breather, I’m more grateful that the other four kids come home everyday still
and that their dad is not far behind them.
I recognize that so many don’t have dads or that members of families who
used to come home don’t now. It’s
hugging them all.
It’s the energy of the
after-school hours. It’s having friends
and dogs and kids come and go. It’s
mud. It’s knowing we have a laminate
floor rather than a real mud floor like so many others in the world. It’s noticing less mud than last year. That means our grass took root and made
it! It’s knowing we can sweep and
mop. It’s knowing the kids like to be
here, that they feel comfortable and content.
It’s having dinner together at
home. It’s homemade soup and rolls. It’s warm apple crisp. It’s especially Sunday dinner. It’s the opportunity to be the ones who get
to teach manners, to teach values, to teach them to embrace green and red
pieces in their dinners. So many others
have so very, very little to eat.
It’s having clean pajamas that
smell good after a warm bath. It’s story
time. It’s praying together again,
grateful for all we were able to experience. It’s having warm, soft beds. It’s remembering lullabies from
childhood. It’s being the one to sit by
them as they drift off to sleep with those contented and peaceful looks. There are many mothers who fear the dark and
wonder if all the family members will make it through the night.
But it’s not just the easy days
that prompt gratitude. It’s recognizing
that there is opposition in life. It’s
waking up one day feeling strong after a week with the flu. It’s having a job even though the checkbook
is negative more often than not. It’s
holding a new baby even though you can barely move from a c-section. It’s living in a town with no relatives but
finding friends who become as close as family.
It’s having no idea how to be a mom but having kids who forgive and
don’t seem to care.
It’s living in this
country. It’s our faith, believing that
these are the things that matter. It’s
knowing that we are simply blessed beyond our expectations, that we are blessed
even though we don’t deserve a fraction of it.
It’s knowing we have the responsibility—the privilege—to share our
blessed abundance.
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