This is the way I want to look at my duties here at home. I want the little things to remind me of the bigger things. The symbols of cooking and cleaning and organizing. I am grateful for the opportunity to serve in this place. Not grateful in a martyr kind of way, but in a real, honest, nurturing way.
I climb the stairs, picking up tossed church shoes on the way. As I stand and look closely I see they belong to boy #3. I remember when we bought them. I had to convince him in a "trust me here" kind of way, that Steve Madden was a cool brand and that he would look great in these. He did and he does.
From dirty socks to homework papers to long boards, I am trying to hold on to these chances to think about the one. I have my private moments with each family member when they don't even know it.