Sometimes I wish away these mornings with young children.
These mornings when cries from the crib break the silence just a little earlier than I would like.
These mornings that begin with leaky diapers and wet sheets and rushed baths.
These mornings when the endless demands for more breakfast leave the kitchen looking like it hadn’t been cleaned just hours before.
These mornings that start out with peanut butter smeared all over the countertops and honey dripping onto the floor.
These mornings when shoes have mysteriously disappeared and homework has been lost at the exact moment we need to leave the house.
These are the mornings that I pray. In desperation. Asking God for patience, endurance, and gladness of heart.
And then sometimes I wish these mornings would last just a little longer.
These mornings when my not-so-little girl silently crawls into my bed and interlaces her smooth fingers with my craggy ones.
These mornings when her head rests on my chest as she wraps my unwashed hair around her marker stained fingers.
These mornings when the baby monitor comes to life with the sound of a baby boy happily laughing at the sound of his own voice.
These mornings when his smile and my heart expand simultaneously as our eyes meet for the first time since the night before.
These mornings when I awake to children who gladly call me mama and when I truly feel blessed to hold that title.
These are the mornings that I pray. With gratitude. Thanking God for my role as mama and for the joy he has brought to my life through these children.
Some mornings are sweet and some just stink. But God sustains me during the hardest mornings and rejoices with me during the best ones. He reminds me that these children are a blessing to me, just as I am to Him.