Bits: Not for Granted

Leesie's Christmas Piggies, 2011

Every time one of my two bigger girls turns to me, usually in the dim light of bedtime, and asks a simple question it melts me into their very bunk beds.  Even if I've had a grumpy attitude because someone woke someone else up again, or someone spilled her water.  Even, and especially if, I've delighted in those last strokes of hair and nighttime prayers and wonder that is the three human beings God gave me for just a little while.

"Mama, what would I do without you?"

I can almost feel their hearts melt, little chests barely tighten as they ponder it for a minute.  Then weight gives way to happiness when they hear me reply, "No, sweetie, what I do without YOU?"

I know this feeling all too well.

I have a trio of bedtime songs that are often sung and among them is You Are My Sunshine.  Always when I come to the line about please don't take my sunshine away, my chest tightens a little.  Then it gives way to happiness because I see them there.  Their wet sheets, their reluctance to call it a night.  They are under my watchful protection and, for that moment, safe under my roof.

Dear God, I don't have words for the tragedy-- for the sunshine that was stolen this past week.  I cannot linger on it too much or for too long.  I am grateful for no cable, for limited internet forums because honestly I need to know this happened.  But I cannot know it too much.

For it will be too much.

I just know that tonight my heart, my tears, my prayers go to those mommies and daddies and families-- to all those little rays that should still be under roofs and spilling their waters.

And I know that tonight, I am so very grateful for the evidence of three baby girls in this house.  In the pile of sink dishes, in the mess of bathtub squeaky toys, in the stacks of books scattered about, in it all.  It's been a pretty quiet weekend here, one that comes with runny noses and tissues and soup, which gave me a chance to also really see the beauty in Christmas with my family.

A high privilege, the warmth of these bits.  Such miracles of life should never be taken for granted.
***

Merry Christmas, our friends.  May you hug a little tighter, linger just a while longer, pray a bit deeper, celebrate the piles and puddles, take hope that there is coming a day when such evil will no longer be tolerated. When the darkness will be forever stamped out by beautiful light.

Atop the small tree right beside my angels as they sleep

May we all not take a single bit of it for granted.

Warmest blessings to you and all of yours,
Katrina