Rambling

Every year it happens. The holidays fly by. And, inevitably, I don't do all the things I mean to do.

I remind myself that it isn't about the doing-- but sometimes that comfort only goes so far because a lot of what I mean to do has little to do with doing and much more with being and I think these are precious days that I don't want to miss out on.

Not because I think this is the best it will ever get.

Not because I'm trying to suck the joy out of this life without hope of another.

Because each day is a gift.

Oh boy, am I learning that more and more and more.

Days are here and gone. Time is here and gone. And not to be dreadfully melancholy or anything, but I am not guaranteed anything. Right here, right now is an amazing opportunity to serve the Lord and I don't want to be found complacent.

And, yes, the season I'm in right now is a particularly precious one. My children young, close to me in every way, needing me, listening to me, letting me teach them and remind them and hold them. My children watching me and observing me and imitating me and being shaped by me.

Crazy that so many of their thoughts and ideas and practices begin with me, you know? This is an especially challenging thought to me as I consider a new year, new habits and disciplines. Is my love for Jesus greater than its ever been? (If it's not, the answer isn't to muster up some feelings of deeper devotion; the answer is to be refreshed in how much my Savior has loved and forgiven me.) Are my children seeing in me what I ache to see in them?

I am thinking about what loving Jesus looks like.

Obedience.
Loving His church.
Holding temporal things loosely.
Looking to His return.

There are so many practical ways this comes out.

One way is to love and cherish these children of mine. And as I savor the blessings they are, to turn it all back to praise. 

I am unworthy.
You are so good.
I am faithless.
You are unendingly faithful.

Wow, God, You are wonderful.