Before I opened my eyes this morning, my body could almost tell that my mountain view was out of sight. Thick, low laying clouds practically stared at me through our bedroom window. They were laughing, telling me to go back to bed. I usually find fog romantic. A mist near the earth that seems to make all stand still first thing in the morning. But this morning I interpreted differently. I listened. My eyes closed, body staying warm under many blankets. I woke with the sound of chair sliding, child climbing, cabinet door squeaking. The seven-year-old asking one sister, what kind of cereal do you want? Bowls, spoons, coconut milk pouring and not spilling.
Two choices: guilt or thankfulness. Mind stalls. How can I be thankful in my falling short? I am guilty for not doing all that I know I needed, they needed in this morning. I am responsible for no quiet time before they woke, for no warm breakfast, no joy greeting. I am also responsible for raising homemakers. Yes, I am also guilty of that, they are indeed already becoming homemakers. Look how she knew what to do, how to prepare breakfast. I taught her that. Look at the joy greeting she gives me. I taught her that too. There it is. The thanksgiving. The Thanksgiving in the empties. Precious things. Precious acknowledgments.
Today was a good day anyway. One moment does not equal loss of whole day's worth. There is more than solely benefit to my rising early, it gives our home quality of life. Feeds my soul early so I feed theirs good food. Children and husband, good food. But HE is the redeemer and restorer of time lost, forgotten, and stolen. Lost time indeed and still redemption, full life today.
Eucharisteo! Grace. Joy. Thanksgiving.
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