Thank You.

I have decided it's time for Fall cleaning. The whole house is in need of a good scrubbing. The vacuum will probably run a dozen times in the next day or two, if my motivation holds. Oftentimes, my cleaning furies are fueled with that self-righteous, "Why does no one clean up around here but me?!" This time, though, is a little different. All I could think as I picked up The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies and 10,000 broken crayons was, "Thank you."

Thank you, Lord, for these little girls and their messes.

Thank you for little hands, that bring me as many books as they can carry, and drop a quarter of every meal they're given. I am so very thankful for the time to snuggle up and read to them, even when I think I don't have time to give. And the food? How blessed are we that we have food to fill those round little bellies.

Thank you for how much they love their Daddy,  sometimes to the point that they don't want me. I have gotten to see my beloved in a capacity that only makes me love him more.

Thank you for the little feet that shed socks, separately, in every inch of this house. Those little feet are part of the best dance parties I've ever had.

Thank you for every chance they give me to sacrifice. Heaven knows my selfishness needed someone to tame it.

Thank you for their millions of questions. There is no better way to find out what I truly believe than needing to explain it to a very curious four-year-old, especially knowing that she will take those words as the entire and complete truth. On that note, maybe the Holy Spirit could grant me some extra grace to answer those questions.

Thank you for their tears... for every time they need me to rock them, cuddle them, and tell them it's okay. I hope each and every time builds confidence inside their little souls that they are truly and deeply loved, no matter what. May I find a way to teach them that that love is still only a fraction of how God loves them.

Thank you for their little clothes and the blessing it is to fold each and every piece.  I fold each memory of their sweet childhood, overalls, tights, and all, into my heart with them.

Help me to be reminded when I become disenchanted with the messy side of motherhood, that these babies, my girls, are really and truly a gift.