It’s the last Friday in this house
9 years of adventures here have lead us to a new road
I savor the quiet of this morning
The way the sun fills up the rooms
Shadows from the window panes laid out across my hope chest
Dishes in the sink
Toy cars strewn about
Birds on the feeder outside our back door
The sound of the neighbor’s tractor as he mows
A white cow in the pasture
20 little birds just flew into the back yard, I’m standing at the back door and here they came
Little Bit sleeping in on his last Friday morning in his “will be” old room
Me, in my pajamas, wandering around my house, embracing these moments
That one day I’m going to miss
I love being a mom. I have no idea how I was even able to breathe before this kid was born. We just celebrated our eleventh Christmas and on Christmas Eve, when the house was quiet and I was the only one awake, I found myself getting all sentimental.
We tried to have a baby for what seemed to be forever, though it wasn’t as long as some other couples. I remember the holidays during those five years as mostly heartbreaking. The one thing I wanted more than anything in the world, Santa couldn’t deliver.
When Heaven and earth opened up and I was finally able to stay pregnant, this little miracle made his grand entrance about a month early, putting him here in time for Christmas.
Oh, you don’t even the know the joy I felt, having that little angel in my arms on Christmas that first year.
When I got pregnant, I made a vow to myself not to forget the lonely road we’d traveled. Therefore, I know what a privilege it is to bake Santa cookies, to cuddle up with my beautiful son and watch Santa’s sleigh on the radar, and to read him “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”
Two nights ago, as I stood looking at our beautiful tree during Christmas Eve’s wee hours, a contentment I can barely describe washed over me.
It’s in those moments when grace slides in almost unexpectedly, that I remember just how eternally grateful I am to be Little Bit’s Mom.