Wake up. Feed the boy. Catnap until girl climbs into my bed asking for breakfast. Wash a few dishes. Serve food to next girl. Baby stumbles into the living room. Feed him, too. I eat…at some point.
Morning offering. Kids begin routine. Lessons. Snacks. Playtime. More snacks. More lessons. Try to keep baby from making a huge mess of the place.
Cook for kids. Lunchtime. Cook for me. Kids do lessons. I eat. Baby is sleepy. Put baby to sleep. Wash more dishes.
Cook dinner. Get ready for work. Serve kids dinner. Go to work. Come home. Eat dinner. Pray with husband and kids. Get ready for bed. Do more work.
Go to sleep. Wake up. Repeat daily.
It doesn’t seem that exciting, does it? Honestly, it isn’t if this is all I see in my days: complete and utter tedium. But when I open my eyes and my heart to all the sparks of joy in between I notice…
Kali’s singing. Thérèse’s giggles. Meleana’s invitations to play and her gentle reminders to clean up their toys. The frolicking around as Jean Paul chases his siblings from room to room. Gary’s random freestyle dance moves.
I hear apologies throughout the day with forgiveness being offered without hesitation. I open a refrigerator full of food and know that God continues to provide. I feel little arms come up to give me the sweetest hugs. I watch my girls reading to each other out of books about saints and the Mass.
Behind the desk, I listen to client after client give witness to God’s hand working in their desires and teaching them how to love. From the most serious discussions to bouts of spontaneous laughter, each appointment grants me the greatest privilege to be walking with couples who share so much of their hearts with me. There is the common goal of ultimate surrender where we all are learning to trust God completely, no matter the circumstances. I relish in the banter of mutual encouragement because I, too, walk away feeling strengthened for the road ahead.
What a treasure trove each day truly is.
This. Is. My. Life.
After 40 days of praying for a greater appreciation of my vocation, I finally can acknowledge the “rightness” of it all. God didn’t make a mistake when He made me a mother, even though there were times when I would seriously question His plan. I wasn’t ready for the responsibility of parenthood and the huge sacrifices that would come once life was conceived in my womb.
But God doesn’t call the equipped. He equips the called.
I’m not doing any of this on my own. I’ve been blessed with a husband who loves us enough to give of himself so freely that he rarely spends time with his friends on the weekends. We both heavily depend on the grace of God to carry us through our marriage in order to provide a home that is rooted in mercy and peace. Faith is our stronghold. It has been since the very beginning. Never able to take full credit for anything good that happens in our family, we are very aware of how broken our paths were, leading up to the place we find ourselves today. The Lord has been good to us. And it is the foundation of prayer that has brought incredible healing to our hearts over the years.
Every once in a while, we get to tell our story. When those opportunities come, they bring Gary and I back to the miracle of hope that we were both given before meeting each other almost 11 years ago. Tracing back to the roots of our relationship reminds us how precious the gift of marriage and family is, as God molded us for one another and for the children He has blessed us with.
So when I reflect back on what Easter means for our journey together, I realize that it’s the “New Beginning” he and I desperately needed. Just as the Resurrection summons us to live Heaven’s joy in our daily lives as we share the Gospel, the birth of our friendship and every amazing experience that shortly followed give meaning to the seemingly ordinary events we may take for granted.
Even now as my husband stands over a sink of dirty dishes after putting the kids to sleep, he’d make Mother Teresa proud. Small things with great love. No glamour necessary.
I wouldn’t want it any other way. 🙂