The house was starting to come alive; I had roused the
children and told them it was time to get up and around. As is the routine, I then went into the
kitchen to start on breakfast. I had
decided with the early hour that this morning’s meal would be easy to fix.
I spread the creamy peanut butter on one of the rice cakes
and thought about the day. The music
lessons, the phone calls that needed to be made, the house that needed to be
cleaned, the school work that needed to be taught and the supper that needed to
get into the crock pot soon in order to be ready to feed my family several
hours from then. So many things. My list was long – the day was early and I
was already starting to feel a little behind.
Too many things for the amount of hours in that day.
They called my name and pulled me out of my mental list
making. I turned to see the two youngest
standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
They were dressed for the day – a pink dress for her (with frills and a
headband pushing back her yet uncombed hair from her face). He had on the nicest jeans he owned, a button
down shirt that normally was saved for church services or nice dinners
out. They were holding hands – him and
her. Two children who would have never
met had it not been for God, His grace and His gift to our home. Both of them – a gift from God to me. Everyday they each call me Mom – because of
His grace and His gift to me.
Her hand grasped his tighter and she looked up him to help
her “start”; and her eyes danced with excitement as they started to sing. A song I have heard sung to me 41 other times before
this day. He sang out loud and clear and
she did too; occasionally looking at him for moral support and for the assurance
that she was singing it right. She
was. He was. Together than sang their wish to me; and I
stopped buttering the rice cake, put my mental “to do’ list aside in my mind;
and listened as they sang.
Life stopped; and I
knew that if I lived for another 42 years – I would remember this birthday on
that day too. I would remember my early
morning birthday greeting, the excitement in their eyes and voices as they
sang. I would remember that I not only
knew I was loved by my two precious gifts from God – I would remember that I
could *feel* their love for me as they sang.
I asked God to help me never forget the scene I was watching at the
moment.
The song finished and they ran to me for a good morning
hug. They hugged tight – squeezing as
hard as their little arms could. Trying
with all their might, to hug me tight enough to convey *just* how much they
loved me. I let myself take in the hug
and their love. I quietly whispered a “thank
you” to God for giving them to me. How
thankful I am that He heard my prayer for another baby and kept them safe till
He brought each them to me. For letting
me find out that you can love someone who has not grown inside of you for nine
months as deeply and as much as you love the others who did. I took in their hug, their song, the look in
the faces and the light in their eyes that morning and felt immersed in their
love – and His love.
Thanks God, for all the gifts you have given me. For these precious little ones that I get to
watch grow up and hear them call me “Mom” every single day. For the three older kids who I get to laugh
with and talk about their futures as I watch you open up your plan for their
lives. Thanks for the husband that has
loved me, cared for me for more than half of my life. Thanks – for the life that you have given
me.
I asked the Zak at the end of the hug, “Why are you wearing your nice clothes?”
He smiled at me, (with a Zak smile that took over his entire
face), “A man has to look nice and smell nice for a lady’s birthday.” He quickly stuck his wrist up to my nose and
asked me if he smelt handsome. I told
him he did.
It was a wonderful start to a birthday day – and the rest of
the day continued in suite. I am so
thankful for all of them.
Thanks God, for my family!
I trust you are able to enjoy your week; basking in the gift of love and family. Thanks for stopping by, I am so glad you did!
~Martie
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