a child of my merciful Father.
a wife to my highschool sweetheart, my helicopter pilot, my best friend.
a mother to five unique children (and another three waiting in heaven).
a daughter to devoted parents and grand-parents.
an annoying sister to two brothers and brother/sister-in-laws.
the warmth of a little body needing comfort.
putting the last piece in the fiftieth puzzle of the day.
the slip of paper-thin bible pages against one another in the early morning light.
feeling the first little flips and kicks of a new little blessing.
tasting the flavors of a home-cooked meal made with real food.
the softness of cloth diapers.
hearing the ‘vroom, vroom’ of another car chase.
watching the tendrils of steam from a freshly brewed cup of coffee.
the beauty of long, dark, eyelashes pillowed against plump, white cheeks.
sitting quietly while my bernina hums.
the smell of hot glue as it cools.
the vibrant colors of fresh, homemade baby food.
hearing the slap of the buttermilk breaking from the butter.
feeling the slip of cotton as it slides under the walking foot.
the graininess of an imperfect photo of the perfect moment.
the joy of constantly learning and teaching.
the finality of a check mark on a to-do list.
that moment, when all the little ones are sleeping, and I can just be me.