Why I Marvel

Last night I had a terrifying dream. Aidan was missing. It was probably the worst nightmare I've ever had. It was vivid and it wouldn't stop. Finally, a horrific, choking sensation startled me to consciousness. I was perspiring and my throat was parched (although I'm sure that Avery, my sneaky little late night bedfellow with thick jammies, had something to do with the rise in temperature).

I tried to slow my breathing and come to my senses. But I had to make sure. Scooping Avery into my arms, I headed up to Aidan's room. There he was, sleeping as peacefully as could be, oblivious of his mother's panic. I lingered over him and kissed his warm forehead. After Avery was nestled back in her own bed, I drank a glass of water and let my head rest on the pillow once more. I was almost afraid to go back to sleep, lest the visions come again. But then I heard a comforting, peaceful chorus of early morning birds. I knew I could sneak in some more sleep before tackling the day, and the Lord blessed me with a peace-filled hour of sleep.

As the little ones came down to breakfast this morning, I was especially in tune to Aidan's sweet countenance. In fact, all day long I savored his being. I smiled as he sat in giraffe costume doing his math. I marveled at his mind when he showed me that the basketball pump could make bubbles in his sister's cup of water. My heart swelled when I saw him clamber over bars at the playground. I loved the way our elbows bumped at dinner -- he eating with his left hand, I with my right. I soaked in the glow of his missing-tooth smile when he challenged me, "I'm thinking of a blue, squishy animal . . ." just before bed.

Sometimes it takes a jolt for me to focus on what's important. Aidan is important. So are Drew, Bethie and Avery Kate. In fact, as I was reminded this morning in my quiet moment in the sunny nook, my children are not only important, they are also holy (I Cor. 7:14). They are fellow heirs walking side by side with Jamie and me on a pilgrimage. They have eternity in their hearts. They are sanctified. The Holy Spirit dwells within these precious beings. What's not to marvel at? And why do I not marvel daily? Hourly?

I know, it's hard to marvel when tempers flare and laundry piles up and legos are stepped upon. It's hard to marvel when mama is tired and schoolwork is sloppy. And it's hard to marvel when the day is long and gray and dreary. But it's even harder to live without marveling. Imagine the dreariness and hopelessness of a day void of gratitude. A day in which I fail to acknowledge the joy that is hiding in my home, waiting to be discovered. I know it's there. It's there times four. And it's my privilege to open my eyes and find it.