The children have been with us for a few days, and yesterday was a busy day with them. Get everyone dressed, convince them that they really do have to go potty so I'm not cleaning up accidents later, take the girls for a piggy back run in the yard to pacify them when they learn they can't come with me on my run, get everyone to the breakfast table, try to make Lucy eat her eggs before her banana bread and police Annie so she doesn't eat the entire basket of oranges, clean the house while arbitrating Lego play, explain to Peter that I can't help him set up a tightrope for his Lego car right now, join Mom in the hall to deal with a lying episode, extract Annie from the older kids when she gets fussy and set her up playing in the living room while I vacuum downstairs, answer her when she asks which cup goes next on her tower, get everyone fed again, tuck everyone in for a nap or quiet time, convince Peter that Lucy doesn't need a container of water for her nose bleed, convince Lucy that her nose is not bleeding anymore and there is no emergency, answer Lucy when she yells down the stairs to see if she can get up, tell the kids they can get up, arbitrate and answer questions as necessary, help Peter deal with his disappointment when he is banned from Legos after wrecking Lucy's creation, get dinner on the table while Mom reads to the kids, feed Annie her soup while eating my own, laugh with the kids while we eat pear slices with homemade chocolate and caramel sauce spooned on top, do the dishes with Dad while Mom bathes the girls, answer Peter's bellows from the shower by telling him where his towel is and that he will have to run upstairs to get his pajamas, join everyone in the living room for end of the day devotions, grease up the chests and feet of the three coughing children with a little menthol rub while they wiggle and laugh hilariously at the tickle.
And then, it is quiet. Lucy and Annie both want to sit in my lap, so we sprawl on the couch, damp heads resting in the crook of my neck. They are quiet while Dad reads the Word. When it is time to pray, I fold my left hand with Lucy's right and my right hand with Annie's left. They settle, even livewire Annie, and we pray. Annie is thankful for building a tower with cups; Lucy is thankful for playing with Legos; Peter is thankful for dessert. I am thankful for many things, especially this fleeting moment with my dear ones.
The prayer is over; Annie is proclaiming her desire for a drink and what color of cup she wants; suddenly everyone else wants a drink too. Their hair has dried after their bath, and Annie's hair rises like a lion's mane, matching her rising voice. The moment has passed, so I treasure it away and look for what this moment has in store.
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