Monday, October 24, 2011

Remembering the Now

Overheard in the nest ...

"If I was a sewing machine manual, where would I be?"

"That seriously sounded a whole lot like Jonathan Edwards..."

"I think he was drunk. That's the only thing that could explain it."

"Get out of the toilet! Toilets are NOT for drinking out of...Now she smells like a toilet!" (in reference to the dog)

"She's better than I am at piano...even if I practiced as much as she does there's really no way I'd be that skilled. But I don't care if I'm amazing at piano, so it doesn't really matter."

"Mama, I really appreciate you sewing my antlers for me."

"What does the ___word mean?"  My response: "Where did you hear THAT?"

"How many people does it take to sew a comb on a headband? Two...especially when the Mom's hands don't work and the wearer has to hold the elastic while said mother sews with both hands. Two people. Four hands. Pitiful."

"Do you think they'll realize we're using a bra strap as a chin attachment?"

"How about we both sleep with you? We'll lay on each side of you and we promise not to move..."

"I felt such a peace, Mama. I knew that there was no more pain. I felt it during church before you told me."

"You found her. Thank you for finding her."

"Daddy said WHAT? He showered in the dark because you have to use your room card to turn the lights on in the walls of the hotel? Where is he? What kind of establishment is he sleeping in?"
.    .    .    .

I love the chicks.

I'm thankful for their expressive nature, their intelligence, their sarcasm. I don't want to forget them at these ages and stages.

They grow quickly, they change so; The big goes from independent and knowledgeable to needing reassurance in a heartbeat. My little, full of life and so purposeful with her words. I want to capture them here forever. I want to...

Squish them down

Stop them from growing up.

I can't.  I shouldn't. I know that it's impossible. My head knows it. My heart works toward it.

Today, something is different. Today I hear, "Remember to treasure them. Love them with all you have. Give them the patience you don't feel. Listen to their words. Look into their eyes. See their hearts."

Today I look to savor their hearts.

I listen to their words.

I capture them, enjoying them in this moment.

I hug them longer, tighter, with more purpose as I snuggle them underneath their covers.

Choosing to remember the now with gratitude, I kiss them goodnight, knowing that tomorrow is another day to cherish.

Thankful for our tomorrows...

For antlers to sew

For Largo on the  piano

For great literature and thoughtful conversation

For small hands that still reach for mine as we cross a street...

For the gift of seeing life through their eyes.

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