We're three days away from the arrival of my parents, and the beginning of our family's Christmas celebration. I have three days left to clean the house (including mopping all my wood floors at some point when the kids are calm), and finish my Christmas projects. I have 6 scrapbook calendars to hand-create before then (with my teen daughters' help) and the other 5 will just have to wait until next week, after Christmas. I have a very long list on the bulletin board in the living room. So far, we haven't made much progress this week.
But at this moment ... I'm holding a sleeping angel on my lap, sitting in a dark living room, with only the Christmas tree lights on, wondering when the first snowflakes of the season will fall today. It's now 8 am, and I need to get up and wake the children, dress, and start tackling that list. My husband has more than hinted that I fold the baskets of clean laundry lining our hallway ... he flat out asked if I could PLEASE do that today. But I'm enjoying this moment first. The only thing that would make it more perfect were if the Christmas music were playing and my peppermint mocha coffee wasn't cold and almost gone.
My 2 yo is a solid little girl. She's sturdy and a bit chubby. She's strong, determined, and very adventurous. But when she sleeps, she looks so delicate. Her facial features look small and vulnerable, as she lies sleeping in my lap. I had thought I'd snuggle her for a moment while she finished waking up, but instead, she drifted back to sleep. It's a light sleep, a twitchy sleep, but it still lets me enjoy her calmness, her sweetness, and her beauty. I can kiss her soft, round cheeks, and she won't wipe the kisses away.
Very soon she'll be running around asking to watch Dora, helping herself to food in the fridge, and we'll be using the chains to lock the basement door and front door to keep her from letting herself out. But at this moment, she's just my sleeping angel, my baby. With her eyes closed, I can admire her golden blonde hair, her long dark eye lashes, and her cute pink lips. But I can't see her brown eyes sparkling at me with curiosity, mischievous humor, and energy. Sometimes she drives us crazy with her determination and constant exploration ... but we all love her spirit.
She knows she is loved here. She gets mad when we don't let her have her way, when we lock doors she wants to explore, when we limit her boundaries. She is angry when her siblings won't give her every toy or snack or treasure she finds. But she knows she is loved. She knows she can snuggle with any of her 7 siblings or her parents. She knows if she brings us a book, turns her back to us, and waits (not always patiently) someone will pull her up into their lap and read that book to her. She knows she is safe. That's probably why she pushes her physical boundaries so much. She trusts that we will keep her safe, even while she climbs up onto the back of the couch and lets herself fall/flip backward onto the cushions. Daredevil.
I pray that she always knows she is loved, and safe. I pray that she takes that knowledge of love and security in her family and applies it to her relationship with God. May she realize that His love is even more deep, more faithful, more constant, more unchanging. May she know that she is always safe with Him, and may she do daring, adventurous, bold things in HER walk with Him. May she trust that He will always forgive her, and may she have a heart that desires to please Him.
As I've been holding her, her unborn baby brother is kicking and moving. I wonder what personality and spirit God has given Him? Two years from now, will it be him sleeping in my lap, and will I be praying for Him instead? God willing, I hope so. I pray for a safe delivery, healthy baby boy, and a long life for him, too.
It's probably time to lay this baby down on the couch, and go wake up her siblings. It's time to get this day rolling along.
Enjoying the moment,