A gentle reminder (first and foremost for myself)

It's 5am and you wake up to the sound of a crying tot who needs attention. After a fitful night's sleep, this early morning seems all the worse. 

You go to him, see his smiling face and realize all he wanted was you. You're exhausted but somehow, it's affirming, being on the receiving end of a tiny person's fierce unconditional love.

You're not a martyr though. There's no way you're taking this tot downstairs for breakfast at this hour. So you pick him up and deposit him in your own bed and settle yourself back down. 

You try to get back to sleep but he keeps chatting about his Big Plans for the day.

"No, sweetheart, it's time to sleep. It's still dark out."

"I not sleepin' anymore. I just talkin'."

Yes, clearly.

Finally he does drift off but you find yourself wired for sound -- making to-do lists and setting big, impressive goals for how your day will pan out. Or fretting that so little sleep will mean a big crash of energy before 10am.

Eventually Older Tot wanders into your room, and Sleeping One pops up and says "I done now!"

It is officially morning, for better or for worse. You climb out of bed and find something to wear. The two kids shuffle off to pick out their outfits and your husband, who appears to have been blissfully unaware of the presence of either child having been in the bedroom, heads off to the shower.

You yawn, get dressed and brush your teeth. As tempting as your bed looks -- just five more minutes!, it seems to say -- your blood sugar is low and you're ravenously hungry.

No wonder. You're 38 weeks pregnant.

Photo by Patrick on his recent trip to Newfoundland;

he thought I'd like to see St. John's again 

as the only time either of us had ever been there before was on our honeymoon

Off you walk to the kitchen where a stray brownie catches your eye. Hoping neither of the children notice, you quickly gobble it down. 

The kettle boils, the oatmeal simmers. You look out the window and see the dew on the grass outside, and the kids climbing onto their chairs right before you and you say to yourself:

"Lord it is good for us to be here." (Matthew 17:4)

You may be tired. In fact, you are, every day these days. But the beauty of your little home, the kindness of these small faces who look to you for everything, the joy of receiving love from a good man who loves his family dearly, make it worthwhile.

Today there will be seemingly endless toys to pick up, temper tantrums to mitigate and dishes to wash. 

Yet God will be there.

God isn't simply in the quiet cuddles with a sweet two-year old, or in the silent gazing at dew-covered grass. He is there in the mire of mothering. 

When your kid escapes you from the grocery store while the other one throws a complete meltdown, He is there, in the form of a friend who discovers the escapee and helps to calm the other child down. 

When supper doesn't seem willing to cook itself and the best you can muster are Western sandwiches, He is there in the grateful smiles of your children who tell you they really like this dinner.

Not only is "it good for us to be here" in the silence, it's good for us to be here in the noise, the continuous distractions and the busy upkeep of a family. 

"Wherever you are, be all there."

Jim Elliot