the view from up here

It’s easy to get caught up in the daily routine of things. Putting on your little one’s favorite show, folding tiny clothes, pushing their hair back out of their eyes because you haven’t had time to get their hair cut this week (or the last few), scrubbing shirts to get rid of spaghetti stains, walking behind them in case they stumble on the stairs, cutting food into smaller bites, wiping their face (again!).

It’s easy to forget that these things are all time-limited, but as I walked up the stairs for what seemed like the 100th time the other day, I sat down between flights and watched my husband play outside with our sweet son.

When did he become almost 3? When did my husband become a father?

There’s something about being a little higher, flying on a plane, standing on a roof, or even wearing heels that has the ability to make the way you view of your world just a little different. You become more conscious of time, the fragility of life, and you’re reminded God is so much bigger than us, than this life.

I had gone through the motions of that day, unable to recall how many cups of milk I poured, where all the child-sized spoons had gone, or if I had moved the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Did I miss this day?

When I look back on this fleeting season I will not remember the countless amounts of folded laundry or whether the house was clean one week and neither will they. What they will remember are the experiences we shared, how safe and loved they felt, and the relationships their parents modeled, with each other and with God. So today and everyday, instead of making grocery lists and vacuuming crumbs off the floor I will choose to pursue these babies first, to treat them like the gift they are.

I have been appointed to guide and raise them and no amount of folded laundry will do that.