These are the days of kissing cheeks and whispers of "I love you, little Coco."
These are the days of making bits of stitching a priority. Because I want my girls to have the memories that I do of a mother who creates for them. Hopefully influencing them to want to sew someday. Or perhaps they will paint. Or play the guitar. Or do all kinds of amazing creating that I haven't even attempted yet.
And these are the days of returning to a loved Friday morning ritual: a coffee shop date with a pile of books. And pastry. Because I've finally acknowledged that while I can happily never taste another chip or sip of soda, regular pastry is good for my state of mind. Or perhaps it's just that the pastry creates a setting conducive to journaling and that kind of thoughtful reading I find so refreshing. All I know is that I pipe something really peaceful into my earbuds, sip my latte, pull out my pen, and before I know it my thoughts soar. I jot notes to myself on ways I could course-correct in my own life. And I pause a lot to stare out a window and absorb the words of whatever author I've brought along.
These two books have been like water in a dry place for me. The Artistic Mother giving me the little push I needed to create without guilt. Walking with God helping me continue my quest to understand how it is that some people feel so strongly that they hear the voice of God and other people, who I highly respect, are much more reticent to make such claims. It is quite possible that I won't find answers on this one for a while, but I'm loving the search and John Eldredge is truly enjoyable to read.
Dawn has broken and the baby is stirring so I close reluctantly. These are, after all, the days of little people who must come first.
