I sit here at the table, having been able to arise before the munchkins. Sitting here, thinking, trying to prepare my heart for today, I glance out a window that opens onto the street in front of our house. The street is quiet, the trees still, and only small chirping sounds can be heard. The ninth of August dawns here in America. I wonder at how many mornings I have now spent at this table, looking out this window, thinking about the day that lay before me. What will I say today to teach my children about who God is? What will I do that will draw their focus to Him? How can I pray for them today? What words can I speak to encourage their hearts?
My favorite moments of the day are when the awake fresh from sleep and when I tuck them in at night. They are so cuddly and rumpled when they awake. Eyes sleepy, yet you can still glimpse their barely restrained energetic curiosity. I love that they will seek my husband or I first when they wake up. If they could carry one picture into adulthood with them I would ask that it would be this. The first thing that they saw in the morning was a face that conveys love and joy and thankfulness that they were ours for a season. The last thing they heard at night would’ve been our voices, voices of prayer, of love, of adoration, of encouragement.
I look again and the leaves on the oak tree still have the underneath dark green color of early morning, but the topside sparkles with a shimmering golden light. A soft breeze now dances with the tree and the leaves sway gently to a tune only it must be able to hear. It will be a glorious morning, a day that He made, a day that He laid aside for us, for you to live and experience and I dare say revel in. I must get on with my morning, coffee needs to be made, passages need to be read, and my household needs to be loved on. I hope today is beautiful for you wherever you are.