When my precious babes are not sleeping with me, they are sleeping with a host of other critters, rocks, pens, paper, stuffies, plastic guys, and always - - with love and light all around them. The most vitally important part of motherhood to me is learning to relax and appreciate the journey. This is not my strong suit. And yet, how can we not be moved when we see such things? Our children love in ways that I do not. They follow creative pursuits that no longer move me. They cultivate dreams that I am not able to conjure. They fear the shadows and are overjoyed with the ordinary. Little reminders of their spirit and verve come in tiny rocks in their beds and speech bubbles that tell the story of two stick figures. When I feel rushed, I don't have to go very far to be reminded to slow down, open my eyes, and fill up on these glorious parts of their childhood.
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