I once read a book that suggested we mothers take life in chapters. Just like we have to read a book one page at a time and let the story unfold as it will, we have to be aware that every stage of motherhood (and life) has its cans and cannots. Right now I cannot read a novel a week. Right now I cannot set up a quilting frame in my living room. But right now I can get fifteen hugs a day from a toddler that adores me. And I can snuggle on the couch with a three year old who knows without a doubt that Jesus loves her and tells me that He loves me too. Someday those other chapters will come. Chapters with more rest, less sweeping, and maybe,just maybe, some appreciation. But, my head would be pretty sore if I banged it up against the wall wanting all that now. Life is in chapters, and I think we enjoy the book more if we don't rush it.
So, if life comes at us in chapters, is a day a page? Is an hour a paragraph? Are there things in the morning I need to seize because they simply won't come again later in the day? I think so. These kids are growing up and time is passing. Sitting around this afternoon doing nothing but ordering carrot soup and hot chocolate from the stuffed animal restaurant staffed by Isaac and Lucy was a wonderfully unproductive chapter in my life. I think I need more of those. Do you?