reminders

i'm making dinner, looking out our kitchen window. i see our raised beds that i'm hoping will be full of vegetables later this year. one already has shoots showing of snap peas, lettuce, and spinach. the other is full of dirt, waiting for me to plant some seeds.

my little one has been in that raised bed today, the one that's full of cow manure and dirt. i see his blue bucket with the yellow snap-on handle. his faded red spade. the red, yellow-handled shovel. the yellow dump truck with the big wheels. the evidence of the fun he had today is all over my floors. hard little brown clumps of pure joy, shaken out in bits and pieces from his shoes, his pants.

as i look at the toys, i smile. as i sweep, i breathe a thousand thank-you's. i hear glass break in his little "kitchen", a little jar he was using to make me "coffee" now in pieces; i sweep some more. ann voskamp speaks of voicing even the smallest of joys. dirt on a floor that says my child experienced gladness today. laundry piled up that tells of one more day i got to spend with my family. dishes that need to be done, proof that we are fed and are not hungry today.

my husband asks if i want him to go get the toys outside and bring them in. i tell him no. i like my reminders.

midnight

"let's go get him", he used to say. when brooks was tiny. when everything was new. we would go get him in the middle of the night, just to hold him and watch him sleep. he was so little, he wouldn't even wake up. we hadn't done it in so long.

"let's go get him", he said last night. "absolutely not", i said. and then, "oh yes, let's" as my better judgment left in favor of enjoying the important moments. i scooped him up, thomas blanket and all. as i carried him to our bed, he mumbled "my bed....want my bed." i smiled as he settled down between us on our pillows. his little mouth that used to make the tiny "o", his arms askew. he's bigger now, but still the same in many ways. we watched him for a few minutes, breathed our prayers of thankfulness.

as i put him back in his bed, he asked for a song. twinkle, twinkle. i sang. he slept. thomas kept him warm. i kissed his warm cheek, smelled his brooks smell, nuzzled my face in his hair. "night, night mommy." night, night brooks. momma loves you.

my windows

we have started singing in our church choir.

for me, singing and music are like home. i grew up with parents who were (and still are) involved in music ministry at every church we ever attended. i have memories of waking up to Christian music and hearing my parents singing and playing the piano. it's always been a part of my life, and is something i have grown to love and enjoy. frequently, God speaks to me through song lyrics and even simply through the beauty of melody and harmony. i love hearing voices sing and instruments play. i sing throughout the day, in my car and around the house. i sang to brooks during my pregnancy, and he seems to love singing and dancing.

jeremy and i have never been in choir together as a couple, so this has been a fun experience for us. i am enjoying watching him learn, hearing him sing, and talking together about the songs we sing. it's been a few years since i myself have been in choir, so feeling at home again through music is a welcome thing. our church isn't the most contemporary church i've been to, and it isn't quite as traditional as what i grew up in; i think it's a good mix of the two, with sincere people who enjoy praising the Lord.  i like the music we do, i'm enjoying learning new songs, and being in choir enhances my experience of worship.

but my favorite part are the windows.

at the front of our church, way up high, is a set of huge expansive windows. before joining the choir, i hadn't noticed the windows. when i'm in the congregation, the windows are behind and above me, but when i'm in the choir loft, they are directly in front of me. because we joined the choir in the winter, most sundays the weather has been cold, dreary, cloudy, and gray. many sundays, it's been raining or snowing. for me, it couldn't be more perfect. i've always loved the rain. cloudy days make me smile; i feel cozy, introspective, thoughtful. so when i sing of my Creator while looking at His beautiful, cloudy days out those huge windows, i can't help but smile. it reminds me of an old hymn that my dad used to sing during storms..."in the lightning flash across the sky, His mighty power i see. and i know if He can reign on high, His light can shine on me. i've seen it in the lightning, heard it in the thunder, and felt it in the rain. my Lord is near me all the time. my Lord is near me all the time."

music, singing, clouds, and rain. it's all home for my heart.