This post is mostly for my forty-four year old self. That’s how old I’ll be when my oldest is eighteen. And it’ll be so bittersweet. And I’ll want help remembering what it was like when they were small. These are such amazing years while we have small kiddos that can be so challenging, but so very special. I often think about a phrase that a friend told me in Texas this summer… “The days are long but the years are short.” That is oh-so-true. I want to fully love and appreciate each season for what it is. Jesus, help me.
Anyway, I just want to remember my kiddos little beds. With all their snuggle-ups (a handful of which were brought back from Africa with us and have given them a bit of comfort and continuity) and special blankets made by dear ones who love them so much. They have such sweet and cozy spots to carry them to dreamland in our home that is such a gift and a blessing in this season. The nights that I tuck them into their beds I crawl into bed with each of them and I wrap my arms around their little bodies and we talk and pray and my heart fills up like I never knew possible before I was a parent.
“The days are long but the years are short…”
Parenthood is such a gift.
My boy’s collection of little friends. Each of them special, with a story.
And my older girlie’s. Thank you God for clean, cozy, comforting beds for my babies to be tucked into every night.
It’s the little things…
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