The Waterfall of Blessings

  "That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet." 
                                                                 -- Emily Dickinson

Some days it just feels like a waterfall flowing...a series of blessings from the very first moment of the day until the very last minute when sleep makes its steady way and releases you from that leash of conscious thought.  Today was one of those precious, precious days.  I slept deeply and soundly last night -- such a gift -- and I woke up to my sweet five year old running up to my bed with a work of art:

Caroline and I having a picnic!

For some reason, this picture with our smiling faces, the checkered picnic blanket, the grapes in the basket and our names for all to know and remember touched my heart deeply.  I know that the era of hourly "I Love You" pictures will someday come to an end...it will be slow like a dripping faucet but it will surely stop, and I'll pause one day cooking dinner or finding a marker without a lid and realize that it has been a few months since I last had a picture drawn for me and I'll know that sweet time of emerging literacy rolled up in a cinnamon topping of pure love and adoration has shifted yet again ever so slightly.  I'll have a more mature artist or a die-hard lego girl or (heaven, please!) a voracious reader and away we will go down that new path.  So today, I cherish my Picnic Picture.

An hour or two later I had the delicious gift of reading our Sunday paper leisurely, getting a hot shower and beginning the process of herding the crew to church. Some Sundays this is a downright chore but today it happened rather easily and we all walked down in the sunshine to gather with our faith community.  Our delightful priest, Father Richard, finally explained poor Job's long and difficult journey and wove a tale linking all of us together.  Like the person who breathes deeply onto the burning embers and gives them a sudden burst of fuel, Father Richard gave me a ray of understanding and compassion and I looked at the people next to me in a new way.  He reminded us that we all will have our own Job moments and will believe with our whole hearts "I shall never know happiness again" only to be surprised much further down the road, that happiness has once again shown herself to be on our doorstep waiting and ready for our shared joy.

After church, I laughed in the winter sunshine with friends outside of church.  I introduced two great ladies to each other and enjoyed the energy of new connections, funny stories, and kids all around. 

I came home and folded a boat load of laundry to the tunes of High School Musical and watched my husband prepare his yearly Superbowl feast. We watched the game.  We critiqued the half-time show.  We hung out together -- simply and comfortably -- just enjoying time together.

Later, as the game was winding down, Caroline asked to go for a bike ride.  She thought she was ready to take her training wheels off and instead of thinking it through, I just got out the wrench and took them off.  We walked the bike down to our street and I held her handlebar.  I have done this before.  I know what this looks like.  For some kids, it's a start and stop process but for Caroline I knew it would take only a minute or two and she would find her balance and ride easily.  Her body works like that: strong, coordinated, quick.  After watching Patrick take (and I'm not exaggerating) years to learn this skill, I wrestled with which is sweeter: watching Patrick finally learn after such a long time or seeing the miracle of putting a complex skill together so effortlessly.  I surprised myself by calling it a draw.  Neither is sweeter...it is simply the journey each of us is on...our own path.  Each path is beautiful. Every step a blessing.  The ease of our journey doesn't make it better.  We will all have Job moments. Caroline's wasn't today.

We came in exhilarated and excited...triumphant and smiling.  I gave Caroline a bath, listened to Patrick sing in the shower and came out to a delicious dinner John had made.  I looked at my (mostly) full table and felt that waterfall of gratitude and love that had baptized me in the morning.  We were together and that's all that mattered. 

I read stories to Caroline and snuggled her into bed.  Kissed a sleepy Patrick goodnight.  I talked to Mary Kate about lacrosse try-outs and got to Skype with Jack and catch up with college life for him.  I made some lunches.  I wrote a blog.  I say good-bye to this beautiful day with a full heart.  I still have chores to do, messes to clean up, clothes to put away and one lost cell phone I'd love to relocate.  Who cares?  I wish I could hold this feeling of wonder and treasure all night...I'm praying I can.  Sweet dreams.