It's still dark out, it's early morning, and she's standing in the doorway of our bedroom. She's jammied, holding her lovie by his ear, wearing her sister's sacred "fancy occasion" black, patent shoes, silent in her ferocious suck of the pacifier we were supposed to get rid of a few months ago when she turned 2.
I tell her to go back upstairs, that it's not time to come down yet.
In her disobedience she stares me down, not moving an inch, and her eyes communicate Bring it on, lady.
Alice Elizabeth. Good groceries, here we go.
Sometimes my brain and heart meet up for reflection, sometimes the Lord whispers in the early morning hours when I'm still. Sometimes it's just wonderful and inspiring, other times more of the harsh reality of things that are current, much in need of refinement and uprooting.
I feel like we all come to these points over and over in our lives, in our days. It's like my brain wants to jump to home base, grasping and flipping through catalogues fervently searching for past knowledge or experience. Meanwhile fear stands at the door gritting its teeth, searching for minds and hearts to crack the door enough so devouring intrusion can engulf and captivate.
I'm thinking, absolutely not.
After a doctor's appointment and ultrasound, we rejoiced in the news of a benign and harmless tumor. Another ultrasound in a few weeks to measure for growth and choices from there to remove or let it be.
Our pace picked back up just a bit but a few days later, slowed us right back down. My Bella was struggling with a cold for a few weeks and began to have short gasps for breath.
I took her to the emergency room and learned she has pneumonia and bronchiolitis. The doctor loaded us up on medicine and sent us home.
My girl has been sleeping a lot, she's a champ. I made some changes in the schedule and we've been home more than usual. And some days, that means more time for thinking and remembering. And baking.
And I love it.
There's a scattered beauty going on right now. I need pages to write it all down but for now I love how the pictures tell a story.
Daddy Daughter Dance. They look forward to it all year. We primp all afternoon.
We had a week's worth of celebration for Valentine's Day. We made shirts, cookies, addressed Valentines for classmates, and shuttled a crew of babies to school for parties.
With a lot of posing and dancing first, of course.
I read an article on the Huffington Post, saying how mamas need to jump in pictures more. The article is wonderful and so true.
I'm working on it.
I'm working on it.
Lately I think my girl has been thinking more too. She's communicating her emotions and logic. Making suggestions for solutions, double checking my grocery list. Wanting to help.
And at night, she wants to be rocked, sang to, and prayed over like she was as a baby.
I'm thinking I like this a lot and my answer will always be yes.
I'm thinking there's no place I'd rather be than here. Present. Whatever it may be.
A grocery store aisle. Standing over a stove. A walk with a dear friend. A waiting room.
He's taking thoughts and moving them into my heart, anchoring down His truth and perspective.