I'm supposed to be in Pittsburgh right now. If I were there, I imagine that Grandma would be cleaning up from feeding the kids a breakfast of every sort of thing they like. "Granola? Or Mighty Bites? I can heat up pancakes, if you'd rather... Do you want strawberries or bananas or apples or oranges?" As it is, they ate a breakfast of pre-determined-by-Dad cereal and then they were given their daily banana and told not to fuss about what color plastic cup of milk they ended up with (Gabriel never wants any color associated with the "dark side" in StarWars and Bronwyn always wants purple). Mom and Dad just aren't as nice as Grandma and we figure it's a working arrangement: our lives are simpler throughout the year and Grandma remains the hero of thoughtfulness in our children's eyes.

My week was supposed to be full of going fun places, visiting with a nephew and his mom and dad, spending time with very special friends, shopping for children's clothing in a few favorite stores, and getting my bi-annual fix-- not to mention seeing many dear people from here. Instead, I've been sitting on the couch a lot, my eyes have been aching from looking at a computer screen or reading books too much, and I don't even get to do fun things like pick up my baby. (This whole, "Hey, Daniel, can you come give Jack to me," thing is getting old in a hurry, I must confess.)

Yes, we are disappointed.

And, yet, I am struck with the privilege I've been given-- even now, months before I will see this baby face to face-- to make little sacrifices for another. I consider how good God is to give our lives meaning through serving. I think about the emptiest days of my life, and I see the very common denominator in each one: I was living those days for myself.

So I'll sit here a little longer. I'll miss more outside-the-home events. I won't see many people and I won't get to put my children to bed, again. I'll continue nursing Jackson less often (I suppose only other moms can understand how difficult that one is...) and I'll resign myself to Easter decorations staying in their box until next year. I won't take a long, brisk walk even though it's beautiful outside and I won't go to the musical rehearsal this afternoon. And, truthfully, when I stop and really think about it, it doesn't bother me because-- well, what are those things in light of this labor of love that might provide a life with life?