Once the boys were off this morning, I had the unexpected treat of spending the day uninterrupted with her. Errands would have to wait, for she needed to rest at home. With all the sights and scents of autumn surrounding us, there was a tangible warmth and coziness in the air.
I mixed up some gingerbread batter and put it in the oven to bake. We looked at her American Girl catalog, dreaming and wishing. All of a sudden she said, "Something smells like Christmas in here!" Her surprise and delight when I showed her the warm-out-of-the-oven treat made me smile on the inside. I made us a tray of gingerbread and cinnamon tea, and we sipped and savored while watching Little Women, being transported together again into the enchanting world of the March girls. We laughed, cried, imagined, and were mesmerized by the beautiful musical score. The moment was real, it was alive, it was sugar and spice and everything nice, just how she is.
Well, how she is most of the time that is. And when she isn't we learn together, for sometimes I guide her gently with wisdom, and other times I am impatient. Sometimes neither one of us are sugar or spice or as nice as we should be in our responses and reactions and on the harder days, when I lay my weary head down and wonder why on earth do I yell, I ask God to forgive me and guide me gently and give me wisdom.
The mystery is that He sees both and loves me still.
Just as I know her best days and worst days, yet love her more than a heart can contain.
Today was a good day. The sweetest of days. One of those days you want to memorize, tuck in your back pocket so you can pull it out and remember clearly the warmth, the closeness, the tenderness, the scents, the softness, the sounds, the serenity.
The beautiful, remarkable grace.