A fresh tomato, bacon, and avocado sandwich. And the way the juice escapes down your chin when you bite into it.
Popcorn made by Mr. J. With lots of melted butter and salt. This is why we like it so well, I’m sure.
The giggle at a silly song sung at naptime. (I would probably giggle too if someone sang me a song from the top of their head regarding a mouse named Bill who lived in a pink house and ate purple cheese and took a nap every afternoon. Purple cheese? Seriously. Where does this stuff come from?!)
The way my small girl’s skin is so soft, fresh and warm. And the way it feels for the same small girl’s hand to slip into mine while we walk somewhere.
The taste of ambrosia cantaloupe, (cold from the fridge and picked from our garden), with a sprinkle of salt to highlight it’s decadent sweetness.
The faith of a 4 year old.. “Well, Mommy.. we just need to pray, don’t we?” And then bows her head in the middle of the Sam’s aisle and proceeds to do just that.
How a glass of cold-brewed coffee can make an afternoon quiet time seem doubly refreshing and bright.
Laundry, nearly finished.
The glory of a bed made, and the way it makes me feel as though many items have been crossed off of a to-do list.
An impromptu supper with a friend, enjoying a grilled hamburger topped with mushrooms and onions. And cheese. Lest I forget that creamy, provolone deliciousness that bound all the toppings of this burger together…
Knowing that my emotions or my flaws… do not change my position as the daughter of The King.
How transformational it is to deal with all of life starting with Thank You.
Thank You, Jesus, that You already crushed my sin.
Thank You that You know me.
Thank You that You see me as whole.
Thank You for already giving me all I need in order to parent the children You have given me, and that in each moment, You will provide thoughts, words and discipline strategies for each child and each situation.
Thank You that there isn’t any condemnation in You– not for yelling, not for pushing the snooze on my alarm clock, not for my dirty house and dusty ceiling fans, not for laundry that never gets put away, not for putting my foot in my mouth, not for the weeds in my flowerbeds…. not for all the things I too often condemn myself for. There isn’t condemnation in You, Jesus, and that is such a relief.
Thank You that my weakness doesn’t mean failure, it means You’re strong. Which is mind boggling and awesome and makes it so it’s silly to try to depend on me at all. Obviously.