Tonight I feel satisfied. Full of the kind of contentedness you daydream about during more stressful times. It makes little sense, as our world is full of uncertainty these days. But tonight, on the back patio, under a full moon and strings of little white lights, listening to a fire crackle, eating dinner and burnt marshmallows to a familiar family soundtrack, life is perfect.
Our home is neither too big nor too small. It is modest and perfect. I admire the way the hanging white lights reflect in the windows, and am grateful for a husband whose ideal style of life so matches mine.
Our children are playing together with hearts full of love toward each other. Helpful and nurturing, even. Violet has just invented a game where she is the Mommy and Daniel gets to play his favorite alter-ego - a puppy dog. He obliges her. They complete each other in every way; the perfect sibling pair.
The weather is divine. Cool enough to feel like Fall and warm enough for the kids to scamper around the backyard barefoot, playing with the crickets.
The food satisfies. Warm, fresh, healthy and abundant. The product of teamwork and creativity.
The music surrounds us and I am simultaneously transported to a thousand happy memories and also sure that tonight, right now, I'm breathing the air of what will be a cherished memory for years to come.
"Doesn't this feel like something we'll remember, babe?" I remark to my nearly napping husband. (He is a sucker for a good fire and an evening on the patio.) "When we are living somewhere else... doing something else... this will be the kind of night we'll think about fondly. 'Remember that little stucco house?' we'll say. And 'Remember where Daniel took his first steps... on the carpet over there. And Violet's first steps... on the patio right there.' We'll say, 'That little house was so good to us.'"
And we smile lazily, both thinking the same thing: God has been so good to us.
"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." (Psalm 16:6).
For these boundary lines, and for tonight, we are so grateful.
Our home is neither too big nor too small. It is modest and perfect. I admire the way the hanging white lights reflect in the windows, and am grateful for a husband whose ideal style of life so matches mine.
Our children are playing together with hearts full of love toward each other. Helpful and nurturing, even. Violet has just invented a game where she is the Mommy and Daniel gets to play his favorite alter-ego - a puppy dog. He obliges her. They complete each other in every way; the perfect sibling pair.
The weather is divine. Cool enough to feel like Fall and warm enough for the kids to scamper around the backyard barefoot, playing with the crickets.
The food satisfies. Warm, fresh, healthy and abundant. The product of teamwork and creativity.
The music surrounds us and I am simultaneously transported to a thousand happy memories and also sure that tonight, right now, I'm breathing the air of what will be a cherished memory for years to come.
"Doesn't this feel like something we'll remember, babe?" I remark to my nearly napping husband. (He is a sucker for a good fire and an evening on the patio.) "When we are living somewhere else... doing something else... this will be the kind of night we'll think about fondly. 'Remember that little stucco house?' we'll say. And 'Remember where Daniel took his first steps... on the carpet over there. And Violet's first steps... on the patio right there.' We'll say, 'That little house was so good to us.'"
And we smile lazily, both thinking the same thing: God has been so good to us.
"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." (Psalm 16:6).
For these boundary lines, and for tonight, we are so grateful.
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