Tired. He sucks his thumb and rubs the fuzzy side of his blanket right under his nose.
Tonight I read this:
"And if ye do this (this = "remember and always retain in remembrance the greatness of God and your own nothingness and his goodness and longsuffering towards you,") ye shall always rejoice and be filled with the love of God." (Mosiah 4:11 & 12)
And an idea that was looming nebulously in my head was suddenly bright and obvious:
The more I acknowledge the Lord's hand; the more I see/feel it. And rejoice. Reminds me of what CJane said about her sister's lovely life in the NY Times article, "..she chose to focus on the beauty. And the more she focused on it, the more she had."
It's true. I know it is because I've been trying to live it, and it's working. Even in my meager attempt at being mindful of present joys, I realize them numberless. And as I choose to recognize them as God's hand, I see His fingerprints on everything. I make a pint-sized effort; I find buckets of blessings. It's like the greatest 401k match around. So many reasons to "always rejoice..."
* My morning bowl of hot wheat cereal brings me silly amounts of pleasure. So do the bulk bins from whence it came. Legumes, grains, spelt, filberts, cashews, flax seeds -- all to be scooped, weighed, labeled and purchased at wonderfully discounted rates. Delicious.
* My little family has been illness-free for months now. Not a runny nose or upset stomach in the lot. It's something I've prayed for daily, especially after the lengthy list of ailments we dealt with this spring. I don't know if it's immunity or handwashing or luck or what, but health is fantastic. And we're grateful.
* My baby talks to me in soft coos and gentlle sighs; infuses my weary bones with joy when we're up for feedings in the unmentionable hours. If it's been a while since you've heard the sounds of a happy baby, find one. Hold one. Listen to one. Love one. You will, for a moment, forget everything else and your whole soul will smile. Even if your whole soul is tired.
* Henry says most of his words without flaw, but he still mispronounces a few (adds an "L" to library, making it liblary. Swaps an "L" for an "R" in Wal-Mart, making it War-Mart (rhymes with star-mart.) Is it devious of me to rejoice in his mispronunciation? And withhold correction?
* A few days ago I drove Nate to work and amid the busyness of Interstate 75, I recounted the love story I'd read that morning, about how love could wake Stephanie up again. (He's used to the daily Nielson update.) And I added some tangential thoughts of my own about how true love has transforming and transcendental power (and, of course, I had to cry about it a little bit.) Sweetest part? Nate had to cry about it too. And when I looked over at the driver's seat and saw his eyes abrim with tears, I had to cry a little harder. We love each other big -- rejoice about it every day. Cry about it some days, too.
Why are you rejoicing?
p.s. I'm having a lot of technical difficulty uploading my photos since I got my camera -- Wordpress says the file size is too big and won't let me post most of them. It makes me cross. You'll be sad to know that you're missing out on a really cute shot of Lily. (Really cute. Stupid Wordpress.) Suggestions? I'm kind of thinking of uprooting this whole blog and moving to another domain. Suggestions?