I follow the paper trail of cut up pieces of paper across the kitchen. . . into the living room. . . and I can feel my heart start to beat faster and my cheeks are getting flushed. I just finished cleaning up the house on my Friday cleaning day and there are tiny scraps and pieces of paper scattered all over our main living space. Somewhere deep down the anger begins to boil up as I see there is a definite trail that, if I follow, will lead me to the paper cutting criminal. Within a few seconds I can clearly discern that the paper trail leads into my daughters room and I follow it. Her door, left open just a crack allows me to see in and I can see her with paper and scissors still busily cutting something. I take a deep breath and intend to go in and discuss this mess and a million other things and as I take a deep breath in and prepare to open her door, the Holy Spirit nudges me or I guess I should say kicks me in the gut. I pause and I watch her, she is absolutely beautiful to me!
It’s midnight and here I sit on the soft new carpet in my son’s bedroom watching him sleep. Watching him breath in and out so peacefully and silently. It’s hard to believe that this bundle of energy and joy and spit and fire can look so peaceful, so silent, so angelic when he sleeps. The silence is almost deafening here in this room that held so much “Loud” today.
Here. Here I feel “love”. Here in the warm snuggles on my bed with 2 little munchkins wrapped in my arms on either side of me and halfway through our second Magic Tree House book for today. It’s in their embraces that I feel it. It is here in bedtime prayers and whispered stories of silly monkeys in coconut trees. Right here as I am encircled with her giggles and pleads for one more story or one more song or one more drink of water as I turn out the light. It is in her voice that I hear it. Here, embraced with his sweet smile and tight hugs and it is here I see love in his first word written in the rainbow colored pencil M-O-M, as he beams of pride for creating beauty and for figuring out how to spell my name all on his own. Here I see love in his eyes, in his creation and in his smile. Here I see it. Here, I smell “love” as I wrap him up in his bath towel and even though he tells me he is a “big boy”, my 2 year old baby is still my baby and the smell of squeaky clean mixed with the downy smell of my towels will always remind me and bring me to love. It is here that I smell the sweetness of love. Here, the house is silent and I taste love in the familiar and gentle kiss of my husband as we turn out the light. It is here that I taste it. It is here. . . in my home. . . in my family. . . that I know love. Right here. Right here I know it more deeply than anything I’ve ever known before. Here.