when he's yelling of fireflies...

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

it happens every morning between 9 and 10.

doesn't seem to matter where i'm standing, his voice finds me before his little feet do.

his hand fits into mine and as he drags me from whatever point in the house i'm at, he's yelling about fireflies.

sweet boy.

every morning, he drags me to the same place.

every morning he throws his head back,

points that pudgy finger of his left hand

and breathes out wonder.

and i focus on him.

oh, i know what he is looking at,

i know that a reflection from that south facing window has cradled the sun and thrown all of it's glory 5 feet above my head.

i know that it twinkles and shimmers and dances across that cream-coloured wall.

i know that the wonder of it all holds my little one captivated.

and we stand there, we two;

one with his sweet little face raised up,

thrown way back...

and me.

head bowed,

eyes wide open to the wonder barely contained in his own.

sunlight captures the son grown in my dark.

always has.

as though seeking the other out, he is drawn to the warmth of that glow thrown down.

and oh.


how he longs to hold it in his hands.

and his beautiful innocence breaks through my indifference

and shimmering light named firefly reminds me to open my eyes...

to open my eyes and my mouth and speak out thanks.

because wasn't His presence found in that fire that didn't bring harm to that bush?

because the Light of the Son seeks me out  every. single. day.

and His Love, His Gifts are not something that elusively dance through my fingers.

oh no.

each one is fully given so i can fully grasp and hold the weight of Such Love close.

even in the hard times.

the harsh times.

the times where everything lays dying and broken.

it may not seem like it.

and that's okay.

He never expects one to flippantly pass through pain.

but the gift in those moments?

it's Him.
His Presence.

His Love that still arcs over and binds it all up from beginning to end.

and whether one is caught on the floor, trying to capture sunlight in hands that seem too weighed down with life,

or with eyes lifted up to the ceiling, lost in glimpses of the Holy...

He is there.

and we can give thanks...

through it all.

1211. his baby blanket
1212. the sky above me
1213. that sippy cup i can never find

1214. that old picnic basket
1215. the found - lost sippy cup
1216. gramma's bible

1217. their laughter in their bedroom
1218. a good school day
1219. those words every night

1220. each friendship here and there
1221. the deepening of our marriage
1222. this life we are making together

1223. laughter
1224. understanding
1225. hearts that are places of safety

1226. It Feels Like Home - because someday it will.
1227. the way he reminds me to breathe
1228. the life of my gramma

1229. that she is 6
1230. that sweet small baby i can still see in her face
1231. that she still snuggles up in my arms

1232. the truth found in colossians
1233. tony's laughter
1234. the stars He formed and that He knows their names too.

and i was asked about my numbers each week...

the ones that build on one another.

fall of 2010 i began my list of 1000 gifts in the middle of a season of painful loss.  you can read the first post here.

i reached 1000 here, in the middle of a blueberry patch and the heat of the summer, but afterwards the list writing continued without the same fervor.

the beginning of january of this present year, i read of this joy dare and decided to pick up my pen once more and plant the habit deeper...because He says that in everything we are to rejoice.

and i've learned that we can.

even in the ugly.

even in the dark.

even in the hurt.

and so i try...

maybe you would like to as well?  click here to find out more.

and you can follow the journey a bit more, if you care to, in the 1000 tab at the top of this screen.